The Streets of Mega-Primus
by book typewriter
Summary: Classic AU set in X-COM Apocalypse. Disclaimer: Classic games were developed by Mythos Games. Rewrite of my previous attempt. Please R&R to help the development of this story. Enjoy! :)
1. Timeline

_Planetary Governing Union End of Year Report_

_Subject: Extraterrestrial Combat (X-COM)_

_It is of no surprise that XCOM continues to remain our best military task force to date. While they are officially a private military, no one is fooled on who they owe their loyalties to. They have made several strides to help repair Earth and police the Solar System while keeping their own military well staffed and research focused on newer technologies._

_Currently, X-COM is running supply through the Belt and trying to help alleviate the situation on Mars. As of right now, they do not officially back either side of the civil war but rather focus on setting up aid camps for noncombatants. There have been reports of Laser Squad agents near these camps but have been "politely dismissed and shown the door" to prevent taking any action. Current reports state that more extreme factions such as the Red Devils, the Ares Spartans, and the Ethereal Phantoms to name a few have been designated as extremists and/or terrorists at the most severe. There has also been a prominent investigation and military crackdown on emerging Cult of Sirius Martian cells by all factions who engage in temporary ceasefires to do so._

_As for the situation regarding Mega-Primus, X-COM will be working on effectively a shoestring budget and fighting corporate politics. We will be unable to provide any support to those operations other than political pressure on the city itself and any corporate entities outside its boundaries. Unless something changes, any actions and consequences of these actions in Mega-Primus will be at the whims of X-COM staff._

* * *

"The War" 2020-2025

February 17, 2020: Connection to Mars exploration equipment ranging from satellites to rovers mysteriously is lost. The losses baffle the scientific community but are dismissed as a series of freak accidents and bad luck as due to the inability to service the devices and intense solar flare activity that has been occurring since new years.

February 22, 2020: Navies start picking up unusual activity in every ocean around the world with the Arctic, Pacific, and Atlantic having the highest rates. Submarines in particular report "strange noises" despite nothing showing up on sonar or radar. Oceanographers and marine biologists report a sudden change in ocean conditions and wildlife migration patterns respectively. World leaders are hesitant to commit to a course of action but keep a quiet lid on the situation. Reasoning for this course of action is the belief of an early El Nino and yet another mystery of the ocean baffling the entire science committee.

February 23, 2020: Satellites are fast to notice rapidly approaching objects before they disappear into the Sun. Civilian reports state similar sightings. With the public showing anxiety, governments begin to plan relief forces under the belief that a violent meteor shower is imminent. Astronomers are contacted to calculate the possibility of where and when these objects could impact. Coastal communities begin to panic as lights and noises are reported with the wildlife also acting up.

February 24, 2020 "Bloody Monday:" Governments bring their militaries to bare as alien craft rain from the sky and rise from the ocean depths. Dubbed Martians and Aquatics for their origins, these hostile forces prove to be unstoppable to anything except each other. Air forces, navies, major cities, and nuclear assets are either targeted or caught in a deadly crossfire as the two forces engage. The crisis is so severe that within the first hour of hostilities human civilization has collapsed. Governments are either destroyed outright with no clear successor, cut off from their countries and militaries, or both. Mass panic escalates while militaries begin to form a defense and save anyone they can. By the end of the day it is estimated that nearly five million people are killed in the chaos.

March 2020: Surviving leaders, local governments, and military officers manage to regain a sliver of control as the aliens begin to focus more on each other than humanity. With the world under a quasi-state of anarchy and martial law, humanity seems doomed. Survivors are forced to hide in the countryside and hope that they are not spotted or fight in the ruins of what was their homes. As a cruel twist of irony, third world countries are spared the worst of the initial damage but fare just as badly as everywhere else.

April 2020: Military forces manage to form connections with each other. The majority of these connections are limited and primarily are composed of forces from the same nation or allied neighbors. Nevertheless, these early connections are small and avoid the attention of the aliens who are more than happy to kill each other than humans. Old grudges are fast to disappear as survival becomes more important than national pride.

April 13, 2020 "Crusader Day:" Remnants of NATO alongside police and civilian volunteers manage to consolidate enough resources to get a military base operational in the ruins of Germany. While the base is understaffed, the equipment is outdated, and forced to fight with whatever they can scrap up these individuals are the first true resistance against the aliens. While accounts of taking out small patrols have occurred before hand, the "Xeno Crusaders" manage to take down Martian supply vessel. Under desperation, the means of this extraordinary feat was done using a scavenged Harrier, salvaged MANPADs, a news helicopter, and even a refurbished WWII wirbelwind flakpanzer (taken from a WWII museum along with anything else that could be grabbed) were used. The Battle of Stielberg Pasture is considered the first true victory for humanity during the war.

May 2020: Communications of the victory of Stielberg Pasture are fast to spread, giving humanity a much needed boost in morale. Neighboring regions send whatever supplies and manpower they can spare to the base while "Crusaders" are sent back to help bolster local resistances. By the end of the month, the force grows all across the regions once known as Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Poland, and parts of Russia and France to form a ruthless resistance against the Martians.

June 4-20, 2020 "Escape from 'Hell's Canal'": The Panama Canal sees a massive engagement between Martian and Aquatic forces while human survivors are caught in the middle. Fed up being pinned down, forces comprised of soldiers from all of the Americas (North, Central, and South) rally together alongside civilians to make an all-or-nothing escape. The escape route was the Canal itself and saw crude rafts as the primary means of escape. A radio operator, Maria Gomez, managed to call help from the remnants of a US Navy task force to provide support. Armed with rifles to makeshift spears, the survivors were covered via naval bombardment and light air support. Literally clawing their way out, the survivors somehow managed to escape and join with the task force in the Caribbean. The escaped concluded three days after the rendezvous by fleeing to the Caribbean Islands, each fortified and used as a means of gorilla warfare against the Aquatics.

July 2020: All traces of the previous world are erased with survivors battling around the clock to stay alive. Europe becomes a hotbed of activity as the Crusaders a wage guerrilla war against the Martians and brute forces its way into Asia and the Middle East. Australia becomes the primary refuge for those fleeing the Pacific while the Caribbean sees a constant hunt by the Aquatics as retribution. War supplies are low and despite minor victories and gathering strength, humanity is hopeless against the aliens of either faction in a straight fight and have no means of researching the captured technology. In the background, the global environment crumbles with little being done to preserve it.

September 2020: The Crusaders manage to send a strike team into Alaska with hopes to meet the "Corsairs of the Caribbean" as they are unable to make any gains against the Aquatics themselves or reach the British Isle. The Corsairs, in agreement to the meeting, send a team themselves through the Florida Keys before heading west. Australia manages to bolster a military and begins to dig in before preparing an assault for the mainland to recover survivors and possible technology. The Outback becomes the sight of a major construction project in the form of a research center dedicated to study of recovered alien materials, whether they be bodies, weapons, craft, or computer equipment. Madagascar sees a large skirmish between both hostile forces and becomes a prime location for salvage which is transferred through resistance cells on the mainland to bolster defenses.

November 2020 "Month of Nightmares:" Almost as if to mock Halloween, the aliens unleash their most terrifying forces upon humanity within days of each other. Whether it be a minor ceasefire in the form of a coordinated attack or coincidence, humanity suffers its worst defeat to date since the initial invasion. Chrysalids and lobstermen begin actively hunting humans in retaliation to the counter offensives. The worst recorded case was ironically Black Friday in which the entire region of former Tennessee was stripped of human life and transformed into an Martian fortress. The Corsairs also lose several islands and are forced to temporarily retreat their command staff to former Venezuela before the end of the month.

December 2020: The world begins to experience what many classify as a nuclear winter. Disease outbreaks erupt all across the world as medical research vaults are breached or suffer from disuse. Fortunately, the diseases once again prove to be the deadliest force in warfare as the aliens suffer even worse loses than ever before. Reports of deliberate cleansing of craft or garrisons encourages humanity despite suffering similar consequences. The first year closes with an estimated thirty percent of humanity dead to pre War levels, an estimated twenty two percent of animal and plant species extinct to pre War levels, and nearly ninety five percent of the world occupied by aliens.

January 2021: The Crusader and Corsair teems meet by luck while traveling to each other. Both were surprised as the meeting location was further East. Nevertheless, both teams manage to begin official diplomatic ties and agree work on coordinating joint efforts against the common enemies. While unconfirmed, it is hinted that both teams saw the each other as "foreigners" and not a similar resistance. Regardless of speculation, both teams returned home after exchanging a few members to help share experience. Both trails involved the Oregon Trail (Crusaders) and Route 66 (Corsairs) and the combined paths taken are considered to pivotal in determining the outcome of the war and have been named the "Trails of Couriers" by future historians.

April 2021: The research complex in the Outback is operational but unable to fulfill its role due to the degrading of corpses and equipment. To make matters worse, the "Outback Raiders" are unable to reliably recover these items on its own due to the aliens having a lack of interest for Australia and unable to obtain any significant military actions on the mainland, let alone transfer the material back home. In contrast, the Crusaders and the Corsairs lack the complete opposite and have no solid means of research and development. To remedy the problem, the three factions manage to create a complex courier system involving modified aircraft, solar powered golf carts, to even sleds in order to reach "Outback Science" and return the results. Africa proves to be a key part of this plan due to the influx of technology while bodies are easily stored ice boxes and portable refrigerators. The plan takes the better course of the year to prepare with results produced in mid October.

Mid October 2021: The first reliable scientific results reach the front lines. Soldiers are finally given decent combat armor against the relentless energy weapons of their foes and first aid kits capable of handling the wounds. Weapons are still lacking behind until former New Zealand physicist Andrew Mackson manages to develop an "efficient" means of powering handheld laser and magnetic weaponry. While crude and dangerous, the new weapons quickly turn the tide in favor for humanity by leveling the playing field a bit. Crusaders are fast to adopt lasers due to dryer climates they fight in while Corsairs use magnetic weapons due to reliability over raw damage.

December 2021: As another year closes humanity continues fighting the war. Command staff and resistance leaders are starting to realize that despite victories there is seemingly no end to enemy reinforcements. Communication efforts between forces confirm that humanity is loosing the war in the long term due to attrition and the inability to effectively coordinate global strategies. Salvaged weapons and vehicles are beginning to run dry and not even Outback Science can produce enough equipment to arm even special forces. More desperate strategies are employed as cruder and weaker yet simpler weapons are employed. The Crusaders effectively are halted in their advance due to fuel shortages crippling their salvaged armor and air forces while the Corsairs are forced to fight using rafts and canoes. Madagascar still holds the biggest cache of supplies to salvage but is rapidly dwindling due to recovery efforts by all sides. The harsh winter also limits operations in the Northern Hemisphere, effectively bringing all fighting to a temporary stalemate. Human losses are now at an estimated thirty six percent, plant and wildlife at thirty percent, and alien control over the planet stands at eighty eight.

April 1, 2022 "Fool's Gambit:" Considered as one of the riskiest, boldest, and most important offensive offensive operations in the history of the world, humanity launches a massive coordinated strike on all known alien strongholds. Planning started just before new years and was focused on overwhelming and confusing the enemies. Casualties were high at best with entire resistance cells and outposts destroyed in retaliation at the worst. Nevertheless, the costly victories outweighed the high price by granting humanity much needed resources in the form of combat bases, research and manufacturing facilities, and critical intelligence. The aliens surprisingly fail to give a full counter offensive to this, not even bothering to unleash their hordes in any significant numbers as opposed to November 2020. April 3 sees the end of the operation with total losses at sixty percent for humanity and roughly seventy five percent of total targets either captured or destroyed.

June 2022: The Fool's Gambit slowly shows results as industry is slowly set up in new locations. While Outback Science is still the primary source of advanced research and development, the other locations can breath easier as they manage to produce weapons, armor, medicine, and new technology on their own. Communications finally become reliable enough for every surviving human in the world to be kept up to date on ongoing action regardless of when or where it is happening. Outback Science begins designing vehicles capable of fighting back against the aliens capable of using alternatives to fossil fuels. The most likely candidates are the fuels used by the aliens despite having very little idea what they even are.

August 2022: Unmanned combat vehicles once again become a matter of debate as manpower grows scarce and the need of armored warfare grows higher. Outback Science manages to develop unmanned tanks capable of running off of batteries and recharging rapidly. However, they are lightly armed (using machine guns or gas powered harpoons depending on the environment) and require an operator to be within a hundred meters and the most to use. Most see the new vehicles as "large remote control cars with guns" and are hesitant to deploy them. However, tests show promising results and field action gives humanity armored fighting vehicles once again. As a bonus for the Corsairs, the Aquatics can finally be attacked underwater as opposed to resisting beach assaults as diving combat suits prove more of a hindrance than a means survival.

September 2022: Madagascar finally drys up on potential resources. Despite the loss, engineers in former South Africa manage to grant a solution for a lack of air support (or "sub support" in terms of the Aquatics). The first models of the vehicles are the MK.I Mosquito and the AS8 Swordfish. The Mosquito is largely seen as a bastardization of 1950's jet fighters, pre War technology, and Martian propulsion while the Swordfish is seen as a deep-submergence vehicle given two torpedoes and a explosive tip harpoon minigun. Early performances sour first impressions even more so but many are fast to shove these thoughts aside as the need of fighting alien craft and providing air support outweighs complaints. While barely able to even scratch the paint off of medium sized craft, the minor victories begin to pile up and fighting becomes far easier.

November 2022: The British Isles are finally contacted after two and a half years. News that there are still people on the islands after no contact and several failed attempts to even get close greatly relieve the Crusaders. However, the islands are seen as one of the biggest concentrations of alien activity, if not the biggest, due to intense fighting by both factions. Human survivors manage to stay alive but are being hunted to the last and are desperate. The Crusaders desperately call out to the Corsairs, Outback Science, and anyone else they know to help. Outback Science begins drafting up new vehicle schematics the moment they hear the request while the Corsairs begin to feed whatever intelligence they can share based on reports of Aquatic activity. War plans are drafted and scheduled to take place within the following year.

December 2022: The third year of the war comes to a close. The former regions of Southern and Eastern United States have been "captured" by the Corsairs as well as the rest of northern South America, the coast lines of Brazil, and most of Central America. Crusaders finally get a proper foothold into Africa, deep Siberia, and even the western edges of the Himalayas. The atmosphere is showing signs of severe collapse and many are forced to wear masks, including healthy individuals. Estimated losses are an estimated forty two percent of humanity, thirty eight percent of plant and animal life, and about eighty three percent of the planet held under direct alien control.

July 15, 2023 "Operation Underlord, E-Day:" The liberation of the British Isles commences. Originally joked as a "Reverse D-Day" by Crusader field commander Wilhelm Shaffer, the amphibious assault on Dover is underway. A week prior, the Second Battle of London is used as a diversion using newly developed Firestorms while Barracudas and Mantas (the true successor of the Swordfish with the Barracuda serving more as a stopgap between the two) clearing the way for troop transports. While the name for the operation was intended partially as a joke and an honor, it unfortunately proves to be exactly as commander Shaffer said, a reverse D-Day. Martian defenses prove to be far more entrenched than reported and heavy losses are sustained. The Crusaders do manage to punch through however and Corsair attacks on former Ireland (launched from Greenland) open a second front. "England Day" (E-Day for short) is considered a success and confuses both alien forces long enough for trapped humans to rally into a full on assault. The Isles are the first territory to be alien free at the end of the year since the beginning of the War.

September 2023: As the British Isles grow more stable, breakthroughs were made in former Taiwan on alien communications. The "cracking of the alien enigma" was seen as one of the biggest achievements of the war. While having no means to exploiting this development to mislead the aliens, humanity immediately began raids on the aliens to break supply lines and harass troop deployment.

December 2023: The end of the year was one of joy for humanity. News of the victory in the British Isles, shared through the voice of Maria Gomez, brightened the spirit of humanity. No longer were humans hiding and forced to survive through gorilla warfare and underground connections, they could win. Equipped with new armor, reinforced with vehicles capable of withstanding energy weapons and fighting on equal ground with alien armor, and emboldened with the news of the complete removal of alien presence from a region, humanity was well on the way of fighting back. Talks between the major factions also facilitated the groundwork for a future global government starting with the creation of the "Extraterrestrial Combat Unit" (better known as "X-COM" for short) to serve the elite special forces against the aliens. Estimated losses are an estimated fifty percent of humanity, forty eight percent of plant and animal life, and about seventy eight percent of the planet under direct alien control.

April 18, 2024: X-COM forces make headway on the alien base in former Tennessee, a previously impenetrable bastion for the Martians. As the cream of the crop of the Corsairs, Crusaders, Outback Science equipment, and countless other forces, the force punches through the defense and comes into contact with a member of the Martian high command. Designated as an "ethereal," losses are high due to psychic powers. However, the capture of the alien solidified the battle as a victory for humanity. Decryption of alien notes also warn humanity of the possibility that the Martian engineering species, the "sectoids," have been heavily modified with a fresh batch of psychic units incoming. Due to the connection between the sectoid species and the aquatoids, the Aquatic equivalent, forces brace themselves for the development and frantically study any and all efforts to counter and weaponize psychic power for humanity.

April 26, 2024: X-COM and Outback Science Code breakers discover the location of the Martian primary high command at the Cydonia region of Mars. Mentions of a super orbital station are mentioned but only in fragments and hints that it is to be in Earth orbit.

June 17, 2024: Corsair strike teams in the Caribbean disrupt Aquatic excavation efforts at the Chicxulub Crater, Yucatan Peninsula. They are astounded to find remnants of what could possibly be an Aquatic base dating back to the Cretaceous Extinction. The questions on how such a discovery could have possibly been missed are largely ignored however due to bigger concerns. After getting past the firewalls, they manage to find mentions of something known as the "T'leth" with a only a grainy image to back up any proof the the object exists. Cross referencing with the Martian logs days later show disturbing similarities.

July 2024: Plans are drafted up to attack Cydonia. The primary problem of doing so involves getting troops there alive. No one has the ability to launch anything into orbit at the current date and humanity has never set foot on a celestial body past the Moon. To make matters even worse, the idea of sending anyone on the equivalent of the old American space shuttle is seen as suicide. After weeks of debate, the idea of developing a hybrid troop transport/interceptor is pushed forward. While seen an "idiotic combination," the counter argument states that helicopter gunships (primarily the Huey from the Vietnam War) served in a similar role. Figuring they have very little else to work with, military leaders green light the plan with the inclusion of a submersible variant to be included to combat the Aquatics.

August 2024: Outback Science goes dark within an hour after a pincer attack by Aquatic forces attack Australia. While there is no confirmed reports of the facility being destroyed, the last transmission off the continent comes from Mackson containing unfinished schematics, equations, theories, and projects. Other scientists are fast to realize his work on the alien power sources, isotopes of element 115, "elerium" and "zrbite" for the Martians and Aquatics respectively. To cause greater distress, psionic enemy forces finally hit the field and wreak havoc on morale. Studies show potential for human psionic forces but nothing worthy to be used in action.

December 2024: Plasma and sonic (both actually kinetic weapons firing energized elerium and zrbite respectively but the names stick) weapons finally even the playing field by hitting the front lines. While these advances in weapon technology are limited to vehicles, soldiers greatly enjoy the benefits of having heavy support. X-COM creates the first portable versions a week later but require sophisticated exoskeletons and power packs to use. There is no word from Outback Science but intercepted transmission suggest the site is simply hiding due to no confirmed action in the location of the facilities. Plans to engage both enemy command structures enter the final phases of development with projects "Avenger" and "Leviathan" entering controlled field tests in order to ensure combat craft can deploy troops. Estimated losses are an estimated fifty five percent of humanity, seventy percent of plant and animal life, and an estimated sixty three percent of the planet under direct alien control.

February-March 2025 "Final Duel": The aliens go out on what many consider a "hail mary" attempt to destroy each other and humanity. The massive assaults effectively push plans of attack back a month at the least due to the sheer chaos involved. The assaults also force humanity to go once more underground to weather the storm. What remains of India sees the worst action, with what little sustainable environments are left are erased as massive "battleship class" craft pound each other into oblivion. The Gulf of India is formed over the course of nearly a month and a half of intense combat. The post combat effects nearly destroy the last remnants of the ozone layer as hazardous materials poison the surrounding regions similar to nuclear fallout. The "Final Duel" is the most destructive event in human history due to sheer amount of damage caused in such as short amount of time.

May 17, 2025: X-COM broadcasts call out to any and all survivors for Operation Martyr, the assaults on the Martian and Aquatic high command. With science pointing to the total extinction of humanity by year end should the war carry on for any longer, many volunteer for the attack. While responses are lower than what X-COM had hoped for, they were better than what was feared. With the aliens still quiet after the madness months earlier, August 24 is seen as the optimal time to begin the attack.

June 2025: Volunteers finally arrive and are greeted by X-COM staff sporting the most advanced weapons and vehicles ever developed by mankind. Handheld plasma and sonic weapons usable by a standard human, power suits capable of surviving space or the ocean depths, and the vehicles that would bring them to the enemy, the Avenger and Leviathan gunship/interceptors. When asked on how they developed so much in so little time compared to Outback Science, the responses were "lots of external help, lots of hard work, and far too much damn luck."

August 24, 2025 "Operation Martyr, Rusty Knife:" Nearly five hundred of the best men and women in the world are hand picked to attack Cydonia. The other volunteers are sent out to harass Martian bases to hide the launch of nearly forty Avenger. With a stroke of luck, all craft break through and begin the two week journey to Mars.

August 26, 2025 "Operation Martyr, Tidal Fury:" Due to the Aquatics suffering heavier losses than the Martians due to the Final Duel, less concentrated efforts are made to distract them. Surprisingly, several basses and strongholds are abandoned with anything of value salvaged or destroyed. Still, several successful raids cripple Aquatic supply lines and listening posts.

September 7, 2025 "Operation Martyr, Humanities Might:" The Cydonia attack finally begins. In a synchronized assault, human forces engage a massive facility in the Pacific believed to be the Aquatic command. Communications between both battles are terrible at best with everyone fighting more or less having to rely on themselves and the soldier next to them. Recovered footage shows chaotic trench warfare for Cydonia and barely visible corridors filled with nightmarish scenes in the Pacific.

September 8, 2025: X-COM forces finally manage a breakthrough on the Aquatics after seventeen hours of continuous warfare. Most of the facility falls under divide and conquer tactics. Surprisingly, most of the Aquatics abandon the base leaving only enough forces to be a nuisance. The combat is light and largely a waste of time but the enemy presence simply is too much of a concern to ignore.

September 10, 2025: Cydonia grinds to a bloody stalemate as the Martians literally throw bodies straight into the crossfire. Some corridors and tunnels become blocked due to the sheer number of corpses making movement impossible or structural damage causing cave ins. As for the Pacific, tremors are reported causing minor tsunamis. Aquatic forces completely disappear but leave no trace to their whereabouts.

September 15, 2025: A massive Aquatic vessel begins to emerge from the Mariana Trench. Assault submarines are scrambled immediately the moment the danger is recognized. By the rate of the surfacing, it is estimated the "super sub" will reach the surface within two hours. All efforts prove to be futile as heavy armor soaks the damage and the sheer size of the vessel makes even concentrated strikes useless. Strike teams are sent in after thirty minutes of futile attacks and terrible losses as the point defenses come online. Breaching the hull of the vessel, the strike teams engage in combat similar to the fighting at Cydonia. Later examination lends support to the vessel being the T'Leth.

September 16, 2025: The T'Leth continues a slow rise through the atmosphere while humanity throws everything at it. In the only instance of a ceasefire, Martian forces team up with human aircraft in the chaotic air battle in vain attempts to bring the massive Aquatic vessel down. Hastily made elerium and zrbite tipped warheads (both untested and having only baseline theoretical concepts at the time) are loaded onto strike craft and is fired at the vessel at the insistence of the strike teams who are still on board. The explosions vary with some warheads failing to detonate while others explode with explosive yields stronger than any conventional weapon outside of a nuclear warhead. Despite the successful attacks, the T'Leth shrugs the damage off and continues to rise to the dismay of all. The only impacts made are reductions in its climb rate, giving a time table of three days before the vessel reaches high upper atmosphere.

September 17, 2025 "Fall of Cydonia:" Reports from Mars come in loud and clear after nine days and six hours of constant combat. While the soldiers are battered, bloodied, and exhausted, they proudly report the destruction of the Martian high command and the capture of several research facilities that hold a treasure trove of technology including Elerium energy, terraforming, genetics, and possibly terraforming. However, they are shocked to learn about the chaos going on over the Pacific and only the insistence of those on Earth keep them from rushing back home. With the possible loss of Earth and most of humanity with it, they are ordered to hold out and be the last bastion of humanity should it be necessary. Surviving Martian forces still pose a threat on Earth but are in complete disarray and are fighting with almost no military proficiency.

September 19, 2025 0743 local time "Fall of the T'Leth": All traces of contact between the strike teams on the T'Leth and the outside world are lost and the massive Aquatic craft still continues to rise. However, strange readings begin to emit from the craft before the craft begins to suffer cataclysmic damage from the inside. Explosions tear the T'Leth from the inside out at the seams and force the monstrous vessel back down to the surface before exploding. The blast is the second largest in history, barely beaten by the Cretaceous Extinction Event. The world suffers as earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, and "superstorms" tear up whatever remains of the shattered atmosphere and biosphere. However, all accounts of Aquatic behavior confirms that the creators have lost all cases of intelligence and are either dropping dead or are running on animalistic nature causing more harm to themselves than anything else.

Early October, 2025: Combat becomes scarce as remaining alien forces die out due to the environment or minor skirmishes. The war is effectively over and is replaced with the fact that the planet is dying. Outback Science comes back online and starts broadcasting questions on what has happened with the most notable question being from Mackson, "What the bloody hell happened out there you crazy, beautiful bastards?!" Forces on Mars are contacted and told to come home with the terraforming technology in order to begin clean up on Earth.

"The Reconstruction" 2025-2084 (Present)

December, 2025: Final elimination of alien forces have secured the planet for humanity. Total losses include ninety two percent of humanity, eighty seven percent of all plant and animal life, thousands of miles of land rendered uninhabitable for the next century at the least (estimated), and the cultures and histories of every civilization prior to the war. Clean up efforts are impossible and even basic supplies are under careful rationing. The strike team from Mars however does give Earth hope to flourish again but the technology is a mystery that needs to be unlocked.

Early 2026: The world enters an ice age due to the damage caused by the T'Leth exploding, supporting the hypothesis on how the dinosaurs were exterminated. Even with the planet dying, Martian terraforming technology is put to good use at slowing the damage at the very least. Scavenging efforts are made to recover historical artifacts, plant and animal samples, or even forgotten technologies. When questioned on why people are looking for buried books and documents, many leaders claim that the these items are "the stories of humanity that remind us of who we were." X-COM primarily leads these efforts while Outback Science races against the clock to save Earth from dying.

Late 2026: Recovery efforts manage to find a few documents, statues, and other historically important artifacts from the ruins of museums, some in remarkably good condition considering the neglect. Clean up efforts are slow but show progress in repairing the environment. A surprise gene cache of thousands of plant and animal species (modern and Cretaceous) is found in an abandoned Aquatic facility. The reasons as to why the Aquatics bothered remains a mystery but the facility is maintained in order to regenerate the biosphere.

2027: Global conditions slowly improve or at the very least stop getting worse. With all alien activity on Earth dead, scientists begin to hypothesize on just what the war really was. The best theory is that the Aquatics and Martians nearly killed each other sixty five million years ago and just happened to wake up. Alien data supports this theory and it is believed the T'Leth was the nail in the coffin for dinosaurs as it created the Mariana Trench when shot down. The Chicxulub Crater was theorized (later confirmed) to be an impact sight for an asteroid in the form of kinetic bombardment.

2028-2034: Life slowly becomes a standard routine of finding lost relics, trying to repair the Earth, and survive the hellish landscape. A few well armed survey teams go back to Cydonia and the lower depths of the oceans but only dead tombs await the paranoid. Civilization is still a pipe dream with the only places capable of having clean water and food are highly specialized military bases and research facilities. Combat vehicles are often repurposed for courier duties to distribute these basic necessities. Strangely enough, the devastation slowly becomes a blessing in disguise as it finally unites humanity under one cause and one basic rule. How this new era is to turn out at the time is unknown.

June 2035: The first proper "city" is constructed in former Gibraltar after nearly a decade. It is more of an ugly combination of metal, cheap quality cement, and synthesized wood, but it proves to be a proper settlement equipped with actual running water and electricity. Named as Reborn Unity, the city is seen as the de facto capital of the the human species with all major organizations signing a new constitution. The laws are still roughly the same but there is hope that a more proper civilian government will ease the tensions of what is effectively a police state. To prevent abuse of power, airtight laws are put in place with harsh punishments. Humanity survived through strength, competence, and equality, not political lobbying and monetary wealth. Global government is under the control of what are considered "regional marshals" due to militarism still being a heavy facet of human society despite the War being over.

May 2036: X-COM, largely a science and engineering organization due new priorities, re-militarizes as a previously undiscovered and intact Martian facility is discovered. Breaching the complex, they are shocked to find the halls not just abandoned, but unused since 2022 according to the last data log entry. After searching the facility, they stumble on a genetic facility housing something they were unprepared for, human-alien hybrids. The beings inside are largely ready for combat and have psionic abilities, yet decrypted logs show that they are regarded as failures and a waste of resources. Unconditioned to be willing slave warriors, physically weak, and having only enough intelligence to understand how to live, the world is given yet another morally difficult problem to solve. After weeks of harsh debates, it is decided to give the creatures the intelligence to make a decision for themselves on whether they are to live with humanity or serve their original purpose. Early June saw the new "hybrids" slowly help humanity rebuild the ruined Earth, accepting the long and arduous road to becoming accepted into society.

2037-2040: Clean up and recovery efforts begin to slow as population centers become overcrowded. Many hypothesize that Mars can prove to be a safer place for humanity to restart and serve as a means of generating resources. Many are hesitant about the idea due to the Martian base, the idea of "abandoning" Earth, and even concerns over succession as many "Pre-War" science fiction settings mention. The more logical however express concerns about how to even support Mars when Earth is in shambles. X-COM scientists finally break the stalemate showing that Elerium fueled technologies are better at terraforming than their counterparts and that brief sensor scans prior to the Fall of Cydonia show that the Red Planet has abundant potential. Plans are drafted and set in motion 2038 with specific criteria set. Should the colonization of Mars prove to be a success, more refined and thought out plans will be made.

2040-2045: Mars colonization is a slow but undeniable success. With the reverse engineered technology in effect, Mars is quickly becoming a stable world while campsite hold a steady population. Theories as to how this works suggest that the technology was custom built to rebuild an atmosphere from scratch as opposed to restoring one. Regardless, many see Mars as a shining beacon of hope as Elerium and scavenged technologies from Cydonia head back to Earth. While not considered to be full civilization (estimates point to at most two decades), interplanetary relations and government plans are put in motion. Conditions on Earth improve by a significant amount due to the resources and in exchange send more pioneers to ease overpopulation and help Mars grow faster.

May 2045: A bizarre religion is somehow born in the darkest alleys and maintenance tunnels. Known as the "Cult of Sirius," the religion starts off as nothing more than a perplexing and somewhat annoying nuisance. Nearly every follower in one way or another believes that the Aquatics and "True Martians" would have been the proper masters of humanity. Regional marshals try to keep the nuisance from spreading but fail to do so in every attempt. Despite being a nuisance, the worst to happen over the course of the year are disturbances of the peace, breaking of nightly curfews, and disruption of work hours. Nevertheless, many keep a healthy distance from the Cult and watch with suspicion.

2049: Earth suffers from the worst global post-War disaster in the form of mass ecological breakdown as the Yellowstone Caldera erupts. Nearly all reconstruction efforts are erased and what little can be salvaged is only in secure locations. Settlements are evacuated and whatever natural resources that can be saved are hastily gathered. In light of the disaster, it is recognized that humanity on Earth is too decentralized to focus on rebuilding both the Earth and the species. In light of the events, Outback Science and X-COM propose the idea of a "super city" that can be self sustaining and allow new technologies to be developed in better conditions before being used to rebuild the environment. Despite the problems, many are unwilling to risk a mass concentration of people out of fear of pandemics, lack of resources, and a myriad of other potential problems. It takes several weeks of harsh debating before the regional marshals accept the plan out of a lack of options. The is revealed as the "megacity plan" to the general populace with the first city, "Mega-Primus," schedule to begin construction the following year once a suitable location has been determined.

2050: Mega-Primus begins construction early in the year over what remains of Toronto, Canada. When questioned on why this location in particular, it was stated that "the land was in relatively good condition and there still was infrastructure that could be salvaged." Ruins around the world were picked clean for any salvageable materials that could be used for building the massive project with the exception of historic/national monuments. The Cult quickly grows into a larger problem as more members become fanatic in their preaches and aggressive. All attempts at stopping their antics fail in misery.

2050-2053: Martian miners erupt into a bloody rebellion as the chief monitoring organization, Solmine, fails to compensate employees or maintain general safety regulations. Earth catches wind of the action but is unable to do much due to horrendous conditions and the desperate need for elerium. Even so, they viciously condemn Solmine and threaten military intervention in favor of the rebels. Solmine in return immediately gives its chief security detail, Mars Security (or "Marsec" as it's more commonly known), unrestricted access to handle the rebellion. Investigators are unable to figure out exactly how or why circumstances occurred the way they did but are forced to watch as the madness continues. Marsec manages to brutally end the rebellions and even gain control over the entire planet which is then turned over to Solmine. X-COM gives an ultimatum that Solmine and Marsec chief of staff turn themselves in to court for their crimes and reorganize themselves or face the military might of humanities best military. Both organizations quickly back down due to heavy losses and fear of X-COM's promises. Mars is given a proper government and the half-baked Planetary Governing Union (PGU) is rushed into existence as a result, an estimated five to eight years earlier than expected.

2054: In light of the "Martian Rebellion," two political entities emerge on Mars that slowly begin to gain ground on Earth. While both are seen as extreme idealists out for their own agendas, no one is truly able to do much to regulate them. Using heavy benefaction from Solmine and Marsec (despite the reorganization), the Extropians begin offer a heavily industrialized society that will benefit humanity. By contrast, the Technocrats view a heavily regulated and monitored society similar to the marital status during the War as the only option due to bitter resentment regarding the Rebellions. Fortunately for the PGU and most marshals, both groups are a minority in the grand scheme of things and are considered as much of a threat as the Cult; an annoyance that must be tolerated for now due to bigger problems.

2055: Construction on Mega-Primus continues steadily much to the relief of the PGU and marshals. Organizations are founded to help draft the economic and logistical landscape of the city. However, these organizations are virtually unregulated due to resources being tied up. Many fear another Solmine/Marsec incident because of this lack of regulation but virtually nothing can be done. Bluntly put, the city needs the organizations and the rest of humanity takes greater importance than overseeing them. Many War veterans lament the lack of camaraderie and selflessness that all but dominated humanity only a decade ago.

2060: After a full decade of hard labor, Maga-Primus finally appears to look like a city under construction rather than a gutted skeleton. An estimated fifteen years are still required despite this but the mere sight of early skyscrapers, roads, even the ugly and bulky sewage plant send a shock wave across humanity. They were no longer simply using the burnt out ruins of buildings and scrap metal to build settlements, they were building the most ambitious city in human history.

2065: Political turmoil allows the Extropians and Technocrats gain political dominance in Mega-Primus. The event nearly freezes construction efforts as the demands of both parties for once seem to favor both sides and exclude any other competition. Marshals threaten military intervention should they hog the city but are unable to make any comebacks when toyed with. Even with the city essentially becoming a dictatorial police state playground for the revival of corruption no one can do anything; Mega-Primus must be finished and proven as a success.

2070: Massive efforts to ease the burden on Earth and get away from the totalitarian nature of Mars result in a booming colonization effort to the Asteroid Belt and the Jovian Moons. While the Belt proves to be a figurative and literal gold mine for resources, the Jovian Moons prove to be a perfect outlet for overpopulation and disgruntled citizens. Some jokingly call the Moons the "New America" due to historical comparison of desperate or unhappy individuals fleeing home for a new start. Add in the fact that each moon establishes its own localized government and form a trade/military alliance with each other, the comparison seems very appropriate. By 2074, the Jovian Moon Compact and Belt Coalition both earn seats in the PGU and become respected members for their firm but polite political maneuvering. The Cult, Extropians, and Technocrats are dismayed to find themselves not only countered but unable to make any gains of even swaying a minority to their cause in either new government.

2078: Construction efforts on Mega-Primus near completion. Projections put the end of the near thirty year construction period at the late half of the following year. Despite the need of the city to be completed, many delay the "grand opening" to coincide with New Year's Eve to symbolize both the start of a new year and age. Public opinion is lukewarm about the choice and neutral at the worst, mostly agreeing that a few extra months of waiting is nothing compared to years. On the sidelines, Earth still is suffering but efforts have been made to once again restore the planet to its former glory. The Compact and Coalition receive more immigrants due to workforce demands and less restrictions. When questioned about their choice of leaving Earth due to restrictions, many simply state they want more personal freedoms without the need of heavy handedness. Martian miners once again protest their plight over hazardous conditions, unfair wages, and the sadistic nature that Marsec (and by extension, Solmine) use to prevent another rebellion. The PGU is unable to do anything due to political and bureaucratic difficulties thanks to Martian delays.

December 31, 2079 - January 1, 2080: Mega-Primus is officially brought to life to a bittersweet reception. Many citizens move simply to have better living conditions and new jobs but the PGU and marshals are hesitant to make any statements. Regardless of opinions, there is no denying the fact that the city is a marvel to behold. Completely self sufficient, having actual green grass in parks, a near infinite supply of clean water thanks to filtration, heavy defenses, and reliable infrastructure. All the stops have been pulled to build this paradise and many are eager to get a piece of it for themselves, politics be damned.

June 2080: In a shocking (yet somewhat predictable) political stunt, Mega-Primus effectively becomes the definition of a corrupt city from before the War. Corporations, political scheming, black projects, and more are the norm under the city glamour. Parts of the city that were meant to be a low tier high density yet comfortable residential area become slums while other sections become grossly exaggerated luxury buildings. Much to the fury of the PGU, X-COM, War veterans, and even the most cynical scientists of Outback Science hybrids are treated as second class citizens at best. To make matters even more complicated, the Cult somehow gains a public foothold. While seemingly comical on how the greatest chance for humanity becomes a cliched dystonia, nothing can be done to remedy the problem. Those who manage to hear about the true nature of the city quickly rethink their plans and either stay where they are or go somewhere else.

February 2081: Mega-Primus sees a sudden crisis as one of its most important companies, Cyberweb, accidentally creates the worlds first truly self aware artificial intelligence. To make matters worse, there are roughly a half million "androids" up and running. The PGU is given a brief and rare period of power within the city to sort the matter out. After several months of debate, the androids are viewed as the same as hybrids in the Solar System. Unfortunately, many of the androids in the city find themselves getting the similar treatment of being treated as second rate citizens. By the end of the year, nearly three thousand androids reside within the slums while the rest are dispersed into other territories.

August 2082: Martian miners reach a breaking point as their peaceful protests are violently crushed and even those who stay out are executed. The entire Solar System is in an uproar and the Second Martian Rebellion begins. While officially labeled as terrorists by the PGU, several branches (those that hold restraint as opposed to several extremists) are seen in a lukewarm light at the worst and receive discrete help from sympathizers. The most prominent cell is quickly nicknamed the "Laser Squad" due to their heavy favoritism of laser based weaponry and effective military tactics. Marsec finds itself fighting a far more organized and determined guerrilla war. Elerium mining plummets but zrbite quickly fills the gap thanks to the Compact and surprisingly Earth supplying large quantities. While vastly over looked when compared to elerium, many begin to question why such an abundant power source has been ignored. It is slowly decided that elerium was simply more bountiful upon colonizing Mars and zrbite faded into the shadows due. Solmine desperately tries to regain the market but the entire Solar System cuts them off and demands the organization to once again clean up its act.

November 2082: An unknown ex-Marsec scientist leaks an experimental but promising implant for mass production in hopes to enhance standard human psionic powers for study. The implant is tested in military and civilian applications and is quickly written off as a hazard due to drug like addictions being formed from the use of the implant. In the streets of Mega-Primus, the new "psiclone" becomes the go to drug for back ally deals. While expensive, a single implant grants the user virtually unlimited experiences with their imagination being the only limit. Dreams, fantasies, even getting a sensation are all possible with merely a single thought. There was no need to damage the body with toxins and short time limits when all one needed was to think the same experience to have it. The city quickly tries to contain the issue but it becomes nearly unstoppable. Ironically, very few users are found outside of the city and even then it is rare. Violent gangs start to form in the slums of Mega-Primus with the chief psiclone producer, Psyke, becoming the most dangerous.

March 2083: X-COM brokers a deal with the governing body of Mega-Primus, the City Council, to help regulate the vast amounts of technological advancements. No one is bothered by the thinly veiled intent of the now paramilitary group trying to take the city back. Even with heavy restrictions in place, the current X-COM marshal simply dares the Council to do worse before ending the negotiations and begins to talk with friends in Outback Science over an upcoming lunch meeting. The slums of the city grow worse as two new gangs rise to prominence; the mafia inspired Osiron and thuggish Diablo. Psyke looses ground due to the new arrivals but manages to keep itself alive and a dangerous threat. Nearly every other gang is effectively reduced to back street teenagers trying to steal from pedestrians in the middle of the night.

July 2083: The hybrids and android populations in Mega-Primus reach a breaking point over their harsh treatment and form protest movements. The Mutant Alliance and Sentient Engine Liberation Front (better known as S.E.L.F.) become not just the voices of their respective "species," they become the voices of the lower class citizens stuck in the slums. The movements are slow and face resistance at every turn but make minor degrees of recognition every month. However, some members by the end of the year in both groups begin to use more radical and violent measures to gain attention.

December 2083: Earth slowly turns another rotation around the Sun as the new year begins. Heavy environmental damage is and scars from the war are still visible with little to no progress made. Mars faces a total civil war as the Laser Squad becomes the leading faction for the Rebellion despite several other factions playing by their own rules. Conditions in and beyond the Asteroid Belt are cramped and difficult due to the problems with the inner planets but offer the highest standards of living with the exception to Mega-Primus. Mega-Primus erupts into a violent gang war within the last few days of the year with protesters becoming far more vocal. X-COM will enter the city as a paramilitary force by New Years Day with orders from the PGU, "Take back that city and humanities hope."


	2. Another year, another day

**12/31/2083, 2234**

_X-COM Intelligence report M-85N_

_Operative: [Redacted]_

_Mega-Primus is the worst hot bed of criminal activity, corruption, and political [redacted] in human history and unfortunately the best chance for Earth to survive. The city is a self sustaining fortress that could withstand a double assault from both Martian (the alien Martians, although modern day humans living there should not be discredited either) and Aquatic battleships. It is the pinnacle of human engineering and would easily stand as the "Eighth Wonder of the World" had the other seven survived the War._

_The city is regulated by several different organizations with the Government (very unoriginal and the more common street name of the "Senate" is widely considered the more official title) standing at the top of the pyramid. Despite this every other organization holds tremendous political and economic influence. It should be of note that four of these organizations are recognized criminal/terrorist organizations by the city itself (previous statement regarding the description of the city still stands, it's [redacted].) These organizations are the psiclone cartel Psyke, the racketeer gun running Diablo, the mafia crime boss Osiron, and the [redacted] [redacted] Cult of [redacted] Sirius (Official X-COM chief of staff statement: while the statements regarding the Cult are unprofessional, all X-COM personnel have come to similar conclusions and thus shall be left within this report. This is an exception to the rule, not the norm.)_

_Civilian lifestyle depends on wealth and political status. Unfortunately, both require ruthless cloak and dagger actions for anyone to have a chance of obtaining. A third of the city is what we are shown through propaganda: gleaming skyscrapers and green parks while the most advanced technologies provide a life of luxury. The rest of the population (including the total of the "mutant" and android populations who have minor political influence if their organizations are recognized at all) are forced in the slums of the city. It is impossible to give a proper statement regarding the living conditions due to the differences in quality for each area. Some areas are filled with petty and organized crime where military grade weapons are used frequently. Other locations are simply run down but maintained low value neighborhoods. However, each area has access to power and clean water and at the very least are in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint._

_Frankly, the city is a mess that needs to be salvaged. The hows and whys it got to such a state in the first place or people enforcing a caste system for petty reasons are the same to the mess on Mars, irrelevant at this point. Most settlements on Earth struggle to provide functional necessities year round, let alone focus on repairing the planet. This city could save thousands of lives simply by being open to the public as opposed to being a dystopian nightmare and could save many more by paving the way for future mega-cities. Earth holds too much history, culture, and emotional impact to it to simply be left to die. Any and all operations in the city will require painful planning and execution. This is not a conventional war by any means of the definition; it is a war of corporate and political espionage that requires a scalpel and backroom planning to be won._

_We **NEED** Mega-Primus if humanity to survive on Earth._

* * *

Over the ruins of what was once known as Toronto in a place called Canada, the crown jewel of humanity stood proud. Its gleaming towers were the pinnacle of human might and would forever be the symbols of a better future. Once everything was set into motion, other cities of equal greatness shall rise and bring the total of humanity into a new age. Or that is what those who lived in those towers thought.

In the center of the city laid the infamous slums. Ask the citizens within the pristine towers and they would claim it was filled with the worst beings in the universe who were lucky to even be allowed in the city in the first place. Ask a citizen walking in those streets in the shadows of worn down buildings and the answer would obviously be different, depending on whether or not the area was controlled by the gangs, the protest movements, or the average lower class. Ask the residents of Grimoire Block, complex B, section 14, and they would say it was their home and a damn good one at that. Ask the Megapol officer residing in room B-14 327, he would grumble at the ancient CRT television having nothing good to watch.

_"We are just-"_

PFFT!

_"Cook with-"_

PFFT!

_"Oh! And a nasty-"_

PFFTZZZ!

"Why do I even bother?" he asked the glass screen.

Getting up, he grabbed the empty mug that once was filled with a drink known as Irish Coffee to wash it. His dirty brown hair was scattered, baggy shirt needing to be washed, and his green eyes were bloodshot. While being only a typical officer, he was one of the hardest working and most dedicated in the Megapol force. From day one of the city opening he had worked himself to the bone to uphold the law and stability, firmly believing the firm but fair nature of the past as the means of keeping humanity at peace. And yet even with countless hours of work and devotion to the city he was nothing more than a lowly assault unit struggling under the corrupt nature that permeated from the very building he worked in. Enforcer Academy was meant to be the symbol of the most heroic and selfless officers, tasked at being the first and last lines of defense for the city. Instead, it was filled with primarily thugs who wore a badge as means to earn a better paycheck and legally kill people. Sure, there were others who were just and honorable but no one got anywhere by having morals in Mega-Primus. Either you were more ruthless and cutthroat than the competition, or you were the paid labor who did a thankless job for nearly nothing.

"Day in, day out it's the same story eh Copper?" the tired man asked himself as he scrubbed the mug with a sponge.

He could think of every moment he put himself on the line only to get a pat on the back at best. Every promotion he was eligible for was skipped over and given to someone else. He was fairly sure he also had plenty of payments that were missing or embezzled but did it matter? Not a single damn bit. He might have been sick and tired of the corruption but he had his reasons for staying faithful to an ungrateful system. Contrary to what most would think, B-14 was the best building in the entire damn city regardless of what anyone in those overly garish skyscrapers said. As part of Grimoire Block, every resident in the complex had the Council watching over them and the crime was nonexistent, even considering Evan in B-14 248. Everyone in the complex was family and could care less if someone was a normal human, hybrid, android, petty enforcer, police officer, political lobbyist, or any other occupation. The only rule they lived by was trying to do the right when forced into a situation. An irrational and overly enthusiastic ideal, but a common one. The most likely cause behind this philosophy was likely the fact that many of the residents came from harsh places like Copper did where hope and cooperation were more necessary than extra rations.

* * *

Returning his thoughts to the present, Copper put the mug away and sat back down on the couch. Even with the weak light one can tell his apartment was second hand at best. The wall paper was cracked and dirty, the carpet stained and ugly, the couch sagged, and the television looked like it has gone through hell and back at least a dozen times (the last one was not surprising given how old it is).

"Oi Copper! You coming downstairs or are you going to mope in there?" a voice asked through the rough wooden door.

"Yeah I'll be down in a second," Copper said as he rain a hand through his hair.

"Bring the telly and the consoles would ya? Ed owes me a rematch," the voice said before footsteps signaled that they had left.

"What am I? The arcade manager?" Copper asked himself with a light chuckle before going towards the television and consoles sitting on shelves under it.

The devices were a pain to get and even worse to get them to actually work for the television. But he could care less since they somehow worked on the ancient device. Most days people would use holograms or psionic realities (or something he hated with a passion, psiclone) to play games. Another difference between the lower class and upper class was the idea of entertainment. No one in the city seemed to really remember the time where sitting on a couch with a controller in your hands was the pastime. Copper and the rest of the complex could care less about using expensive technology and psionics to enjoy themselves. Whether it was out of spite or simply enjoying a classic, everyone enjoyed playing old games on old consoles.

"Stupid wires," he muttered as he unplugged the television and consoles.

Grabbing a box, he managed to nestle the television, consoles, and controllers together without crushing anything. Of course, getting the box down three flights of stairs was going to be a bit of a challenge and that comes after getting past the door.

"Where the hell is it?" he grumbled as he set the box down and searched his pockets.

"Looking for something Copper?" a metallic voice asked.

"Just my keys Bolts," Copper said as he glanced at the android standing down near the stairwell door.

"No one is going to rob you Copper. Everyone in the entire building knows you're...a copper," Bolts said.

"Hardy har har Bolts."

The android laughed. Ask anyone anywhere else and they would find the concept of a living machine laughing impossible. Ask them five years ago and they would have thought the idea of a living machine in the first place was impossible. Yet in Mega-Primus it was very much a reality. Brush aside the voice and metallic features and they could pass just as well for a standard human.

"Gotcha," Copper said as he finally fished the keys out of his pocket.

"Need help with those?" Bolts asked.

"Yeah take the box. I'll meet ya at the grav lift with the vacuum tube," Copper said as he picked up the television after locking his door.

* * *

The festivities outside were joyful albeit cramped. The parking lot for B-14 was not the largest and no one could spare the time or energy to clean the overgrowth that grew from the center of the entire super-complex. But for a few electric barbecues, tables, and one or two carnival games set up nobody cared so long as there was enough room to maneuver.

"No different than that stupid room," a female hybrid sighed as she swirled a shot glass of cheap champagne.

"Ah cheer up Genes. You'll get a promotion someday," a man in a plain but formal vest said.

"Any luck on your end Ethan?"

"Managed to keep the jackasses from torching a guys side shop...only for them to stole his entire stock along with whatever cash he did have," the man sighed in bitter frustration.

Genes gave a sad sigh at this. Ethan might be a part of Osiron, but not because he wanted to. Like anyone else living in B-14 there was a tale to tell and his was the same tune as everyone else, having to make due with a choice that was never really his to make in the first place. Still, he tried to keep the darker sides of the organization at bay with his work even if he was the one spreading them around.

"You'll get through to them one day Ethan," Genes said hopefully.

"Ha! When Copper becomes the chief of Megapol and finally uses his authority to give me the slap on the wrist I deserve at the minimum then I'll get through to them," Ethan laughed bitterly.

Genes said nothing and simply stared at the polluted city skyline. It was...a rather beautiful sight even if the ivory white towers were filled with worse filth than the slums ever could. They taunted her, reminding her that to live in Grimoire Block was to be used and tossed aside. She had spent ten years slaving away at Outback Science to learn everything she could in bio engineering and genetics, earning the praise of several of the most intelligent and brilliant minds in human history in the process. Now...she was reduced to investigating fungal infections and monitoring animal feed at Nutrivend. She was fairly sure the only reason why she was still given a job was because she ran circles around half the "biologists" in Hydro-Farm One.

"Ah hell, who gives a crap about our sob stories? Not like anything is going to magically fix every problem in the System," Ethan said in dismissal before offering to refill their shot glasses.

"Of course I forget the bloody wires!" the voice of the resident officer yelled over the noise, earning laughs from several.

"At least we have each other to share the bad and the even more bad," Genes said as she accepted the offer.

"And some good I hope," Bolts said as he walked up.

"And the good as well whenever it decides to show up. How's things at the factory? Want me to threaten Marsec to leave you alone?" Ethan asked.

"I'll live. Besides, those jackasses are full of hot air."

Ah yes the infamous Marsec. Known for unethical experiments, unnecessary force, strangling out competition wherever they can, and seeing everything as an asset. Just how people like that managed to be reborn after the War is a mystery. Then again, the same can be said for several others living in the city. Genes would rather trying to encourage moss to grow in the ruins of Moscow (or was it Stockholm? Madrid? She has been all over the planet that each community built in the ruins of a former city tends to blend together) than live in one of those pompous apartment buildings.

* * *

"All right, I'm back! Just need to... Wait is that fresh corn I smell?" Copper asked as his head spun.

"Have another batch almost done right here," one of his neighbors said.

"Build me a plate would ya? I have my hands tied."

"Thinking with your stomach officer? May I interest you in a yearly supply of the finest quality produce?" Ethan asked.

"One of these days Ethan," Copper sighed, "One of these days."

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual. Say...should I expect Megapol to handle a Pyske cell next week? Chronos Block?"

"You might see it in the news. Who knows? Maybe they'll send in the boys from Enforcer to clean the streets."

Ethan nodded and helped with the wires. Both men were a sad result of the corrupt justice system of the city. An officer of the law hamstrung by pointless bureaucracy and corruption while a desperate man is forced to a life petty crime in the mafia to simply survive. Ethan hated his life frankly. Always looking over his shoulder, always forced to hear pleading voices beg for one more week, always forced to apologize in advance before he dislocates a shoulder to enforce the will of Osiron. At least Copper had a life where morals were black and white.

"Look Copper...maybe it's time I turn myself in," he said as the consoles flickered to life.

"You know you can't do that," Copper said.

"Damn it Copper! You more than anyone else should know I belong behind bars."

"Ethan I have seen the worst this city has to offer and then some. You know this isn't me letting you walk free because I'm corrupt."

"Yeah well you're not looking for dirt either," Ethan said as he grabbed a whole bottle of cheap champagne.

"Two things," Copper said as he grabbed his dinner plate and took the bottle away, "First you're perhaps the most honest man I've ever had the misfortune to come across."

"Gee...thanks."

"You're welcome. Second, you'll be out before they even bother to print the paper and we end up with you or someone who actually does his job simply because they can. Frankly, I'd rather have you on the loose than someone else."

Ethan wanted to punch Copper in the face for that one but it was the truth. One of the unspoken rules of the city was that Osiron was untouchable and they got what they wanted in the end. Copper might be pushing it by letting a known gang loan enforcer walk free (and have an illegal M 4000 sitting in the closet but that was a different story), but Ethan for all intents and purposes was a free man. Unless the Senate gave express permission for someone to be captured, Osiron was to be left alone. Officers that "upheld the law" tended to disappear a week or two later despite Megapol having the gang on their hit list.

"I'm going to rot in hell," Ethan said as he sat down heavily.

"Fairly sure you'll have good company. Besides, the rest of the city will have the worst of it at least," Copper said before grabbing a corn cob.

* * *

As the the clock struck midnight, the city cheered for a new year. Fire works went off, parties raged in apartment buildings, and for once the massive highways and streets were empty. For the residents of Grimoire Block B-14, it was a quiet affair. The parking lot was packed and some were even crowding on their neighbors balconies. Adults had shot glasses of cheap champagne while adolescents had drinks of their own. In a quiet murmur their collectively gave a toast to each other for a new year.

Such is life in the city of Mega-Primus. A shinning jewel in the middle of a poisoned dying land where power and wealth determined ones life. A city where the true signs of humanity live lives of repetition and brief moments fleeting happiness. Such is life for B-14.


	3. Policing Action

**1/6/2084, 0700**

_X-COM Intelligence report: M-6T98A_

_Operative: [Redacted]_

_Megapol is one of our most likely "allies" in regards to operations in Mega-Primus. Note that the term is used loosely. This is primarily due to the fact that the organization as a whole is a corrupt farce of an emergency service. Police forces are just as likely to be bribed to look the other way, fire fighter services will deliberately delay themselves should a fire be anything less than "critical" (in essence, the building must be a high class one or be on the verge of collapse should it be low class,) and the medical services charge outrageous prices for even a physical therapy. To make matters worse, members are known to engage in shady deals, sell weapons on the black market (sub par to our more advanced assets but not in the hands of an insurgent on Mars who will use anything to great effect,) and hamstring any honest members for simply doing their jobs._

_As for why we are going to work with these [redacted] criminals, they are unfortunately our best bet at obtaining weapons and support should we get tangled with the gangs. Their armor is adequate for low tier ballistic weapons and the T7Y "auto cannon" is nothing to scoff at (that also goes for the Lawpistol MK.1 which is a phenomenal handgun, those things are semiautomatic hand cannons in their own right.) Vehicle based weapons are disappointing however and with the exception to what could be classified as a low tier MAD weapon: the X5 Retribution missile. However, several decent weapons are locked behind bureaucracy and paper work, meaning we won't see any of those and only half decent lasers at the best. Strangely enough, nearly their entire stock is compatible with Marsec vehicles (we'll handle them **LATER**) despite the intense rivalry between the two so we can expect decent urban combat vehicles._

_In short, Megapol is corrupt and dangerous. We are better off playing nice with them than not however. They have the firepower, the political influence, and the market strength to effectively destroy us should we anger them. Megapol for better and for worse is the official law of the city and a dangerous player in the more recognized unofficial law._

* * *

"-ning Mega Primus! Citizens can look forward to a beautiful day with mild cloudy weather. To start things off-" Copper heard his radio go off as he got out of bed.

Giving an undignified yawn, he stumbled his way into the kitchen and started to make himself some coffee and threw some bread into a toaster. While his breakfast was getting ready, he headed to the bathroom and washed his face to wake up and clear his head.

"It's a bunch of drug addicted maniacs armed with peashooters," he said to his reflection while he though of what the next few hours had in store for him, "You'll be fine."

Turns out, Ethan was spot on with the tip. Psyke was setting up shop in a new area and were going to mass produce psiclone by the boat load. While everyone could get by in Mega-Primus, the slums were the way they were for a reason. Get someone hooked on a drug of any kind and they will tear whatever life they and those around them apart at the seams.

Hearing the toaster beep, he brushed the thoughts aside and went back into the kitchen. Realizing he left the radio on, he turned around and promptly tripped over a shoe that was laying on the floor. Grumbling, he threw the irksome shoe aside and turned off the radio.

"It's too early for this," he said with a light groan while heading back into the kitchen.

Flipping on the television, he flipped through the channels while spreading butter and jam on his toast. He found the usual news, bad comedy talk shows, and...wait was that a cartoon? Flipping back, he realized he stumbled upon an ancient rerun of some obscure cartoon series.

"Well...at least it's more fun than the other mindless crap Sensovision likes to display," he muttered while pouring his coffee into a mug and bringing his breakfast to his couch.

Turns out, folks in the last century knew how to get people to chuckle. Copper could not remember the last time he laughed so hard coffee came out of his nose.

* * *

An hour later Copper was in the one place he hated the most: Enforcer Academy. It was pristine, clean, and had an air of grandiose to it that offered peace and comfort.

What a load of complete and utter shite, Copper thought as he glanced at the polished marble floor.

It was a fake image. Enforce Academy was meant to hold the best officers in the entire damn city. They were to be the equivalent of a counter terrorism task force, the most ingenious detectives, the first line of defense for the city should anything threaten its safety. Instead they were no better than Osiron in being an organized mafia only being on the other side of the "law" and not threatening people for cash, they just rob them blind once the place is cleared and sell their spoils on the black market. No one looked twice for missing evidence if they even looked at all. Why should they when it was easy to sell a captured machine gun for enough cash to feed a family for a month including a small bribe?

"Well well well. If it isn't the jackass who's as much of a looser as he is pathetic," a nasty voice said.

"Are you thirteen or are you a Megapol officer? Because I don't have time for your bullshit," Copper said without turning around.

"Big talk from a looser like you," a hand spun Copper around.

Copper got a good look at his tormentor. An ugly face, the uniform was baggy, a neck that was nonexistent yet flabby at the same time, and a name that was not worth remembering defined the mountain of flesh in front of him. He joined the force last year and has risen in the ranks alarmingly fast...by doing nothing but traffic duty. Copper has seen him a few times while being on patrol rotation and after action clean up from raids but never went out of his way to meet the guy. By the way he was wearing a suit of armor and had a Lawpistol on his hip, it was likely this clown was ready to "bust some heads."

"Not so tough now are you?" the aggressive officer smirked.

I don't have time for this, "No I'm not. Which is why I'm going to the armory to prepare for the day. Never know what to expect with those...gangsters," Copper said calmly while holding his frustration bottled inside.

The excuse of an officer laughed and began boasting that the gangs were a joke, causing Copper to snap. Copper quickly twisted his tormentors arm, brought them to their knees, and held their own Lawpistol towards their head. The entire room froze.

"Let me make something very clear right now," Copper said coldly, "I don't care what rank either of us are. I don't care what you think of me here in the Academy. But you have that attitude out in the streets you'll not only get yourself killed, but several others. Pull that cocky shit with me out there and I'll save them the trouble of wasting the ammo. Got it?"

"What's going on here?!" a senior officer bellowed.

"Just reminding someone the dangers of the job sir," Copper said followed by a deep breath and releasing the excuse of an officer.

"By pointing a gun to his head?"

"It's empty. Clip and chamber ejected," Copper said as he pushed the gun into the seniors hands and gestured towards the ammunition clip and bullet sitting on the floor.

Copper headed straight towards the armory and ignored the stares. While he was one of the lowest ranking officers in the entire building, everyone knew that he was far more dangerous than he let on. He had been given suicide missions with almost no proper equipment, hunted down and captured the most ruthless murderers, and even ran head first into a collapsing building just to save a child with resounding success. It was clear that whenever Copper got serious on getting the job done and done right it was wise to either help him or get the hell out of the way, because he will get it done if there is even a minuscule chance for him to do so.

* * *

"Insertion will be through the parking lot here and here. Psyke has been using Marsec proximity mines and explosives. Due to that, don't be surprised to be using the grav lift as a means of transportation," a Megapol intelligence officer pointed at the holographic display in front of the room.

The briefing room was something straight out of an old science fiction movie a century ago. Layered chairs arranged into a semicircle with a holographic display in the front while the lights were dimmed. Copper found the whole room to be a tad bit flashy for appearance sake but it was practical.

"As you know, explosives are authorized when dealing with gangs but we have an incentive to avoid overly using them," the intelligence officer continued.

"What's the score?" someone asked.

"Psiclone implants are to be bagged for a PR stunt. Two and a half grand for each you turn in."

"Probably will be sold on the black market," Copper heard the individual next to him grumble.

"That or the higher ups use the crap for themselves," Copper agreed.

"You thinking of going through with it regardless?"

"You know my stance on those things Henry."

Henry was a good cop and the only one Copper could actually call a friend. Any other honest officers were either too jaded, too cynical, or too pessimistic to even try to live a partial life. Henry fit plenty of the check boxes of a cynical Megapol officer, but so did Copper. It came with the line of work and the conditions they had to go through. One did not simply hold onto false hope in Mega-Primus and cynicism often helped honest people get through the day.

"I imagine this tip came from your contact?" Henry asked as the briefing continued in the background.

"Same guy," Copper answered.

"He couldn't have leaked what was coming could he?"

"Knowing Psyke? All hell breaking loose with the Final Duel running a side show school play."

"Heh, think Diablo would join the fun?"

"You two! Have anything to say?!" the intelligence officer shouted at them.

"No sir. Just wondering how this raid is going to go," Henry answered.

They both knew how it was going to go: terribly. Psyke was as nasty as they come and were not afraid to make that clear. Diablo might have the stronger guns but they at least stick to holding hostages the typical desperate criminal way. Pyske would simply strap a bomb to them with a dead mans switch and then start the clock before activating a stockpile of explosives inside an apartment complex without even needing to be pushed into a corner. They were dangerous no matter what was happening. The best two ways to handle them was to either ignore them or unload nothing short of hellfire in terms of firepower in hopes of killing them before they did something insane. Neither were an option due to the fights typically taking place with high civilian traffic.

"Sir, what are our rules of engagement and support?" Copper asked.

"Hmph, you at least take things seriously so I'll make this clear. Civilian casualties are to be avoided as always. While prisoners are not needed, stuns are going to be our best bet in keeping collateral casualties low and potentially have info on where the rest of the rats hide. Even so, hovercars are authorized to clean an entire building with auto cannons should things get too rough. Higher ups might be throwing in a bonus but they want this cell purged. Let's try to keep the complex in one piece if at all possible," the officer said.

Copper was not surprised. Civilian casualties were frowned upon but easily brushed under the rug if it meant a finished job.

"As for teams we'll be doing this one by the book people. Snipers in the complex across the street while shockers knock down the front door. Grenadiers are to be in close support with stunners on the flanks. Anyone going inside is having one of each regardless of squad focus. Clear?" the officer ordered.

"Yes sir!" everyone in the room yelled.

* * *

The ride towards Chronos Block was somber. Corruption or not, no one with any logic would be excited for what was coming up. Copper felt tense but managed to hold it in as he heard the engine hum quietly. While he saw Marsec in equal lighting as Megapol (which equals terrible), he would be the first to admit they know how to build some impressive machinery. The Wolfhound APC he was in was a testament to that.

As for a combat vehicle, it was surprisingly comfortable to ride in. The seats were padded, there was enough room for one to shift their weight, and the mixture of anti gravity and tires made the ride feel like one was in a People Tube as opposed to a heavily armored APC (the same could not be said for armed but a forty millimeter auto cannon on human shaped targets was enough for the raid). It was no hovercar or even autotaxi, but it was a decent enough ride for what was coming up.

"Man...why do we use this piece of crap when we could build our own?" someone complained.

"Oh shut up about the whole Marsec versus Megapol crap already. I could care less on what we use so long as it isn't used on us," a different officer grumbled.

"Makes you wonder how our auto cannons and plasma pistols wind up on the other side of the law," Henry muttered.

Copper refrained from making any comments. Everyone knew about the black market deals that every organization was involved with. He was thankful enough that almost no one bought a Griffon AFV that somehow was stolen out of a Marsec warehouse. Flying armored cars with plasma and missile launchers was terrifying enough, a giant tank capable of swatting those out of the sky and leveling half an apartment super complex with a magnetic rail auto cannon (or just the entire building in less than half the time if outfitted with a plasma cannon) would be nearly impossible to stop.

"Remember, we get in there with a blitzkrieg and they'll fold within minutes instead of an hour. Don't go off alone and keep them guessing. No stupid heroics," an sergeant ordered.

"I'll keep you covered," Henry said with a weak smile as he bounced the sniper rifle he was holding.

"You tag 'em I bag 'em," Copper said as he patted the ET-45 stun grapple on his hip.

After a few more moments of silence, the Wolfhound rolled to a stop and weapons fire was heard. Megapol hovercars were already near the apartment complex and were taking fire from all directions. The operators, either panicked or not caring about civilian casualties, let loose with their forty millimeter high explosive rounds.

"Damn it! Move! Move! Move! Let's go! Move!" the sergeant yelled.

Copper rushed forwards and pulled out his Lawpistol. The parking lot looked like a war was taking place in it which was an apt description for the chaos. Someone once again botched the timing and planning of the raid.

Another SNAFU, the drier side of his mind said bluntly as he ran to cover before firing at the criminals.

The Lawpistol proved to be advantageous in this exchange when compared to the infamous M 4000. The Lawpistol was renowned for its accuracy, reliability, and muzzle velocity both in and outside the city. Add in the ten millimeter "Drill" round which was custom made for the gun and one had a handgun that could punch through body armor nearly thirty meters away. Against street thugs wearing clothing and homemade armor, the Lawpistol was nearly unstoppable.

"Shit! Would someone deal with those assholes on the third floor all ready?! I have a hail storm raining on my head!" Copper yelled as he ducked his head back into cover.

"Bad angle! Flyboys, what the hell are you doing over there?! Stop with the flying circus and give our guys some actual help you dumb asses!" a sniper shouted.

A hovercar floated down and unleashed a torrent of explosive shells and laser fire, erasing entire apartments in a matter of seconds. Clearly, collateral was going to be high and should the raid continue as such there would be little need for an assault team to begin with.

"What the hell are you doing?! Use lasers you idiots! You're going to bring the entire damn complex!" someone screamed.

Copper braced as he waited for the debris to stop falling before sprinting for a hole in the wall. The plan already was thrown out the window and he had survived similar situations with no back up. Entering the hole, he found himself in the remains of someones bedroom. Just before he could scan the room, a noise came from the bathroom that somehow managed to reach his ears through the chaos.

"Megapol! Come out with you hands in the air now!" he yelled as he aimed his Lawpistol at the bathroom.

No one did come out and he was hesitant to blindly fire through the door. While it was likely a Psyke gangster was waiting in there, he could just as easily kill an innocent citizen (or as innocent as one could get in Mega-Primus). Pulling out the stun grapple from its resting place on his hip, he braced himself before kicking the door down. What he found inside was a terrified nine year old boy holding onto a dog in a vice grip. Cursing both his lack of luck and the idiocy of the situation, he holstered both the Lawpistol and the stun grapple before crouching down to the boy.

"Come on kid, let's get you out of here!" he shouted before picking the boy and dog up, "All units! This is stunner 5! I am extracting an unarmed civilian and will be in desperate need of covering fire! Repeat, I need covering fire!"

"Copy that stunner 5, I've got over watch," Copper heard Henry reply.

* * *

Henry has forgotten how many times he has cursed the infernal X87 laser rifle. It was under powered, heavy, prone to over heating, and had a scope that looked more like a kaleidoscope than an infrared sniper sight. The only things going for it was the fact that it shot lasers which meant his shots traveled at the speed of light and was accurate in spite of its atrocious sights. Still, the earliest handheld laser weapons used back during the War had more power, were built out of tougher materials, and could blast through a concrete wall with only the need of either venting heat or replacing the heat sink. It was the epitome of Megapol allowing greed to outpace common sense. One could tell just by holding it that it was cheaply made, mass produced without care, and disposable. Add in the convoluted means of loading the thing a new battery and it might as well be classified as the worst sniper rifle in history that actually works somehow.

Still cursing the rifle, he aimed and fired at anyone using a gun who was not wearing Megapol armor and shooting a gun. They definitely felt the ultraviolet beams hit them but it was not enough to stop them. Most hits caused minor fracturing and second degree burns while a few were strong enough do worse. However, against adrenaline fueled psychopaths these wounds were not enough to stop them and typically required an extra shot or two to put them down unless it was a head shot. Even so, he was glad the stupid thing was doing something at least as the laser fire gave Copper enough cover to get the civilian out of harms way.

At least one person is getting out of this alive, he thought bitterly as he shot another gangster.

* * *

Once Copper got the kid and the dog out of the combat zone he rushed back into the fray. Not bothering to use the stun grapple outside, he popped a three round burst at an auto cannon user who tried to rush him. Why the idiot tried to use the heavy weapon in close quarters and do so in the open was beyond him but it did give him added firepower in the form of a T7Y auto cannon. While not a personal fan of the heavy weapon, Copper could hardly say no to a gun that could fire fifteen millimeter "Mace" rounds in three different variants. Fortunately, the clip held standard armor piercing rounds and not the high explosive or the terrifying "Inferno" incendiary variants. Too bad it was half empty but even a single round could be overkill for a fully armored soldier before the War if it hit dead on.

"They're falling back! All units, storm the building! Hovercars be ready for danger close fire support! Repeat, be ready for danger close fire support!" the sergeant ordered.

"Copy that. Stay sharp in there," a hovercar operator responded.

"What the hell?! They just blew the eastern fire escape!" someone yelled.

"It's Psyke you dumb ass! Watch for mines!"

"They're dropping nades on us! Grav lift is not secured! We need-argh!"

Copper tuned out the combat as he ran for the north west stairwell. It was out of the way but if he was lucky Psyke would have left it alone to allow themselves a backdoor. Bursting through the door, he found himself under fire from above. Pulling a "Pacifier" stun gas grenade from a bandoleer, he quickly glanced at where the shooter was and prepared himself for another barrage of gunfire. The grenade flew into the air before discharging a thin emerald green cloud of gas which threw the gang members into a coughing fit before they fell over paralyzed or knocked out.

"Have a good nap," Copper muttered as he ran up the stairs, not fazed in the slightest by the gas due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins and careful breathing.

Even as he moved up the stairs he listened carefully. He had seen far too many officers die due to them failing to notice a mine or a criminal. The climb was slow but he would take slow and safe over fast and reckless any day. Even if he had to take a minute to climb an empty flight of stairs he would do so.

* * *

Patricia was close to pulling her hair out. Somehow Megapol caught wind of her operations here in Chronos Block. She was not angry, she was not pissed, she was livid. She had spent five months of painstaking backstabbing, bribing, and work to become a lieutenant for Pyske and all of it was being blown up within minutes. Someone sold her out, she was sure of it. Whoever did it would pay as well as Megapol for being its hypocritical self.

"Damn them," she hissed as she downed a shot glass of whiskey and pulling out a plasma pistol.

"Ma'am, we're loosing ground. Shall we bring out the rockets?" her aide asked.

"Too late for that. Arm the bombs and grab whatever is salvageable. Guns, Psiclone, anything you can grab you take. Bomb the rest," she ordered, not even bothering to look at the man.

She was going to get demoted if she was lucky and that was assuming she would escape. Megapol was clueless and incompetent but when the caught wind of easy prey they tore it apart. How this operation was found was not important, all that did is saving whatever possible.

Surprised the building is still standing, she thought as the smoke rose from small fires that sprang up from the fighting.

As she poured another glass of whiskey she thought about the whole reason behind the fighting. Pyske has fallen for the classic trap of greed through a "drug" while Megapol presents the false image of a law enforcement agency. They were both frauds, just cogs in the machine for the city. No one cares if people use Psiclone or some other means of escaping a petty life, just so long as the violence is kept to places that are unimportant. Mega-Primus thrives off of the chaos, just so long as its controlled.

Regardless, she had her chance at life and was given a bad hand. Ce la vie, she was going to go down on her own terms. Pulling out an old gas mask, she downed the whiskey and threw the glass against the wall before preparing herself for the run of her life.

* * *

Copper had reached floor seven before he started to run into unwanted company. Slinging the bulky auto cannon to bear, he aimed and squeezed the trigger. The auto cannon was loud, kicked with every shot fired, and utterly devastating. Five gangsters were downed within seconds while the remaining three had enough luck to dodge the barrage and hide in apartments.

"Give up, you're not getting out of here alive any other way!" Copper yelled.

"Go to hell!" one of the survivors yelled back.

"Where do you think we live in?" he questioned before advancing forward with his Lawpistol and stun grapple.

Surprisingly, they were actually armed with Lawpistols themselves as Copper took a literal head shot from blind fire and fell over from the sheer force. Dazed, he fumbled for his own Lawpistol and waited until they came out of cover with smug looks on their faces...or what looked like smug looks. With his vision still spinning, he aimed the best he could and fired at them. Most shots missed but he managed to hit two of them while the third fell over dead with a nasty burn on the side of their head.

"Whoever's on the seventh floor north west side you're welcome," he heard Henry say over the radio.

"I owe you one," he replied with a groan as he shook the dizziness out of his head.

Getting up, he grabbed his weapons and reloaded the Lawpistol. Despite the headache (possible concussion if he was to be honest) he was ready to finish the raid. He looked towards the auto cannon where it lay and examined it to see if it was still a viable option. Unfortunately, he had only five shots left which made its use limited at best. Taking a moment to examine the surrounding weapons around him, he was disappointed to find only M 4000 machine guns, Lawpistols, and... a laser rifle? Ignoring the oddity, he grabbed an M 4000 and was pleased to find a full clip of seven millimeter "Hornet" rounds. It may have lacked the punch of the auto cannon or the accuracy of the Lawpistol, but it was infamous to the point of being considered the "Thompson of Mega-Primus" for a reason.

Well...when in Rome, he thought as he picked up the gun and once again climbed the stairs.

* * *

"Ma'am, charges are set and are set to blow in ten minutes," Patricia heard a lieutenant call.

"And the defuser?" she asked.

"In my pocket, we can hold the entire building hostage to secure an exit."

"Excellent, let's go."

If they were lucky, Megapol would be too busy trying to storm the grav lift to remember about the stairs. They always focused on the most direct path, rarely if ever taking any alternatives.

"Shit! We've got a copper!" one of her men yelped before they were sprayed by bullets.

"You're under arrest! Surrender now!" the officer below yelled.

"Damn it! Kill the bastard!" Patricia ordered.

Well, so much for Megapol having no common sense to use the stairwell. Whoever this guy was they were a no nonsense type. Unafraid to commandeer weapons to suite their needs, use cover wisely, and never leaving themselves out in the open despite being two flights down. When the M 4000 they were using stopped firing, a smoke grenade was thrown at her men.

"I can't see!" someone cried as they coughed.

"Back! Back! Back! We'll hold him from the hall! Move!" Patricia shouted, unable to see through the smoke but otherwise unaffected.

* * *

Copper threw the now empty M 4000 to the side and rushed up the stairs. He obviously had found the leader of this cell and he was going to be damned if he would let them escape. Dual wielding the Lawpistol and stun grapple, he downed the few goons that were fumbling through the smoke before tossing another smoke grenade into the hallway.

"Ha! You'll have to do better than that!" a distorted female voice taunted before a plasma bolt incinerated the door frame next to him.

Oh joy she had a ELP MK.2 plasma pistol which was meant to be regulated to lieutenants and Council bodyguards only. The handgun was a well sought after prize by nearly every criminal in the city despite the rarity of both the gun and its ammunition. It was compact, accurate, and could burn holes through cars.

Not the first time I've been on the receiving end of one of those, he thought to himself as he waited for the disorganized spray of plasma and bullets to diminish.

"Hold fire! I said stop shooting you dumb asses!" the leader yelled, "You still there officer?!"

Copper said nothing as he put the stun grapple under his arm and pulled out his only high explosive grenade. He was reluctant to use it. The AP2 hand grenade was as powerful as it was compact. It could easily kill anything within twenty meters of detonation and injure up to another twenty five. But he knew that the amount of fire that came from down the hall would be too much to handle otherwise.

"I have the entire building ready to blow and the only defuser is with me. Either call off your raid and let us go or this entire place will become nothing but dust in eight minutes," the leader demanded.

Copper activated the grenade and threw it around the corner. A few brief screams and yelps were heard before the three second fuse finished. Copper waited only to grab the stun grapple again before rushing through the ruined doorway. The hallway was scorched and there were holes in the walls but the floor was intact...mostly. Copper moved cautiously a few steps until he heard a floorboard creek inside one of the ruined apartments. Muscle memory and adrenaline resulted in him shooting his Lawpistol through the wall. A feminine yelp in pain as something hit the floor with a heavy thud.

"You bastard!" she shouted.

Copper entered the apartment and fired off the stun grapple at the gas masked figure. She dropped with no hesitation.

"This is stunner 5, hostile VIP down! Repeat, hostile VIP down! The building is ready to blow in five minutes! I'm looking for the defuser now!" he yelled on the radio, not caring what the responses were.

Looking through the leaders pockets, all he found were spare clips for the plasma pistol and a phone. Turning his head to the dead gangsters in the hall, he frantically rushed to search each one. The bodies were in bad shape and likely anything on them was destroyed but he hoped that the defuser was still intact. The third corpse had it and with a frantic push of a button, it disarmed the explosives. With a sigh, he sat down and waited for the raid to finish while aiming his Lawpistol towards the stairwell and having the stun grapple ready.

* * *

Henry held his breath as the fighting stopped and the building in front of him still stood. A chaotic twenty five minutes had passed and yet it felt more like three. He had to hand it to Copper, that man was probably the luckiest bastard on the entire force.

"Area secure. Call in a clean up crew and get Synthmesh on the horn, they're going to have a field day with this one," an officer ordered.

"What a morning..." Henry sighed as he took off his helmet to rub his face.

"You can say that again," a sniper to his left agreed.

Every raid was a disaster. Something always went wrong. His best friend always was in the middle of the mess while he sat in relative safety taking potshots through windows. How is this city even standing with all this crap happening? Forty years ago the idea of humans killing humans was seen as preposterous, now it was accepted as a daily action in what was supposed to be humanities best chance at keeping Earth alive.

"There better be something good to come out of this or I swear I'm hitch hiking out of this hell hole," Henry muttered as he looked at the ruined apartment building.

He saw Copper carrying an injured woman out of the building, likely the VIP. Henry was always amazed at the fact Copper survived as well as get the job done. Call it luck or fate, but Copper was nearly unstoppable.

Too bad that luck doesn't carry over to fixing our other problems, Henry thought sourly.

Picking up his rifle, he headed down to the ruined parking lot. Despite his helmet having air filters, the smell of burning metal was heavy in the air. Officers were resting in various places and positions, a few cars were burning, and the building looked more like a decrepit ruin than an actual structure.

Cocking his head to the side, he spots a tower in the distance, likely a luxury apartment or corporate building. He hated it. Knowing the people there, they probably grabbed binoculars and telescopes to watch the "fun" while eating overpriced genetically enhanced popcorn. What did a burning apartment building in the slums mean to them? Their days in ruins are over and it is just too bad that the plebeians are stuck here.

"Ow..." Copper groaned as he leaned against the Wolfhound and collapsed, grasping his head.

"You all right?" Henry asked.

"Headshot... I owe you big for earlier."

"Dude, you need to see a doctor...like now."

"Yeah I should. My place with sausages?"

Henry let out a weak but genuine chuckle. Leave it to Copper to put others ahead of himself despite getting shot in the head.

"Only after you get yourself looked at," Henry said as he helped Copper up and began looking for the closest medical professional.

* * *

Copper walked into his apartment and promptly fell onto the couch. It was almost sunset and most of the afternoon was filled with brain scans, psionic massages, headache pill prescriptions, and misery. The only good thing to come out of all of this was that it was covered...most likely...hopefully...

Groaning, he got up and pulled an ice pack out of his freezer and a leftover slice of pizza. Throwing the pizza into his microwave, he went into his room and turned on the radio while laying down with the ice pack on his head. The soft piano notes banged on his head but were far more soothing than the news as far as he was concerned. Hearing the microwave buzz, he got up and washed his face.

"You're an officer, not a sociopath," he told himself as he looked at his reflection.

Most would have been shocked at the events earlier but after four years of constant service and mandatory psionic mental conditioning, he was numb to the chaos. Disturbed by the cruelty in a murder scene? A given considering just how terrible one can get to the point of a bloody chrysalid being a chihuahua by comparison. But he never was fazed by the site of death...and that scared him more than anything.

Drying himself off, he headed back to the kitchen and started nibbling on the pizza. It was bland and boring, not even having any toppings on it. With a sigh, he put it down and turned on his ancient television. Growling at the bright light, he tuned the settings until he could watch comfortably and began searching.

"No. No. Na-ah. Nope. Not interested. Hell no. Don't care. Wait what the hell?" he stopped as a news report showed signs of a Diablo strike force heading towards the heart of Pyske territory.

Looking out his window, he saw the vehicles in the distance. Soon enough, black market weapons were fired and a full on air battle was let loose. Part of him was ready to grab a Lawpistol and stop them, but the more tired and reasonable parts of him ignored the chaos. Such events were a biweekly event and most of the casualties were gangsters to begin with.

"Let them kill each other," he muttered as he returned to his pizza and searching for something interesting to watch.


	4. Intelligent Machine Troubles

**1/24/2084, 1027**

_X-COM Intelligence report: T-X062_

_Operative: [Redacted]_

_It should come as no surprise that Mars Security (better known as "Marsec") is perhaps one of the most dangerous loose cannons in the entire Solar System. Their methods involved in the first Martian Rebellion were harsh, unnecessarily cruel, and without any hesitation. As we all know, the [redacted] haven't changed one bit since then with the exception of their home made technology starting to deviate from simply copying and pasting our declassified models. They fit perfectly within the political landscape of Mega-Primus due to contracts and a close relationship to Solmine who holds tremendous pull within the city._

_Marsec in Mega-Primus holds the cornerstone in terms of armored vehicles and advanced weapons. Plasma cannons, laser guided missile launchers, zrbite/elerium spiked explosives, the Griffon AFV (the rumors about these things are true, especially the ones regarding their uses), and the infamous M 4000 machine gun (more of an over glorified PDW but still highly dangerous in terms of the rate of fire and damage it can do in the right hands) are their most recognizable common assets. Quality is not dismissed for the sake of quantity and it shows in craftsmanship, even if the vehicles specifically designed for Mega-Primus have questionable aesthetics by a military standpoint (although said aesthetics do make undercover operations in urban locations easier). It should be of note that this a fair portion hardware is second to only our own (again, mainly because they were copying our outdated hardware), looks or reputation aside._

_Putting Mars itself aside, Marsec is dangerous no mater what they do or where they do it. We don't have hard evidence, but the writing is on the wall that many officials are corrupt and have been conducting illegal experiments on human beings (of all kinds) and even alien clones, unsanctioned weapons development, and black market dealings ranging from Psiclone to weapons and vehicles. We also have reason to believe they have been responsible for the kidnappings of several scientists and theft of PGU property. As of now, we have a possible lead on the Bravo Blacksite Raid two years ago which involved the theft of several DNA samples which supports our beliefs of alien clones being experimented on for unethical reasons (for those who would turn a blind eye to these matters, refer to Project Commonwealth and remember the last time a [redacted] group of psychopaths unleashed chryssalids and lobstermen upon the human race with no restraint). As to what their goals are we have no clue as to what they are which makes Marsec even more dangerous._

_To be blunt, Marsec is one of the highest priority targets we have in Mega-Primus due to them having a corporate HQ set up in the city. Any evidence found can result in the organization being disbanded and taken apart if __presented to the PGU. However, we must play our cards carefully due to the fact that Marsec will be the best provider of advanced military hardware within the city and they are not afraid to use it. We spill the beans too early and they will burn the entire Solar System to take us down with them. In short, find a chink in the armor while playing nice and pray that we kill the dragon before it wakes up when we strike. **THERE WON'T BE A SECOND CHANCE FOR ANYONE IF WE FAIL.**_

* * *

Bolts was an android. Androids do not get headaches. Androids do not loose their tempers easily. Androids do not loose arguments they are committed to easily. And yet Bolts was experiencing all of these all because of one single reason...

"You're doing it wrong! The algorithm is completely, utterly wrong you dumb machine!" a Marsec representative yelled.

"And I've told you five times that if I do what you want the entire system will fail to target anything!" Bolts all but yelled back, feeling his internal processors working overtime to reduce the mounting aggravation.

Marsec was infamous for being overly aggressive, unethical, and dangerous. For Bolts, they were a complete and utter pain in the ass. They never saw him as a person, just a machine that only existed for their use. In a different world, he would have been exactly that but not this one. Here, he was an AI with a full range of emotions and the complete understanding of life (or at least the closest anyone could get to it). Too bad Marsec never got the memo.

Bolts often found himself working various IT assignments at Cyberweb. Despite the organization being responsible for his creation and a rather...questionable attitude towards his employment, the manufacturing factory he worked at was a stable source of income. Add in the fact that the manager of the factory was one of the few upper management officers that was honest and the job was rather decent if albeit unnerving at times considering the production of industrial machines with far more rudimentary intelligence than any android would ever have. Unfortunately, the job also attracted the arms market and few were willing to pay as much as Marsec for state of the art software.

They also were the most unreasonable with their demands and often clashed with software programmers.

"Listen stupid, if you want the Bulls-Eye software to work it needs to be checked and test ran every time we make a change. The changes you're demanding will set us back a month at the least. Hell, even your test pilot admitted the work we've done is improving the accuracy and that's using the same test software you jackasses use for your own damn toys!" Bolts said after taking a moment to come up with a logical counter as opposed to ceaseless yelling.

"Now see here-" the Marsec representative started.

"Oi! Quit your bitching and get the hell out of here! We're busy making your fancy software and as our friend said your demanding is going to set us back," one of the nearby computer technicians snarled.

The representative scoffed and left. Bolts would have sighed if he had lungs but the relief was enough. Marsec was always bad news but the upper management board loved the shady PMC due to the contracts between the two. Cyberweb would gain a substantial increase in funding for more R&D (probably into more questionable realms of software technology if the grapevine was to be believed) while Marsec would have the software necessary for...whatever they needed the software for. It was probably for the best one did not look beyond the surface of Marsec and its blatantly obvious corrupt yet brutal practices.

"Right then. Back to work. Joe, mind rebooting the system for our fly boy?" Bolts asked after a minute of blissful silence.

"How about we change it up this time? Put him on the receiving end of some triple A?" the technician at the far end of the room suggested.

"We could just make a mix of everything," someone else said.

"All right...how many of you have been playing games without inviting me?" Bolts asked earning a few laughs from everyone else.

* * *

Work on the "Bulls-Eye" targeting matrix was a painful affair simply because modern day weapons are exceptionally accurate. Even a small gain in accuracy was seen as a success for the team no matter how insignificant. So far, all the team has managed to accomplish was a meager two percent increase out of the desired thirty. The primary problem with such a high demand was that the hardware simply could not handle it. Management at the very least accepted a compromise that involved cheaper costs but it would mean nothing if they failed to reach the ten percent mark. Sure, breaking the network into thirds and allowing kits that allowed the processors to link up into a synchronized system cut R&D time and production costs down but it still was a pain to get the software to operate.

"Blech... What attempt are we on now?" someone asked after another two hours of failure.

"Haven't been keeping count and I don't want to know," Bolts answered truthfully.

"Whatever. Test number who-gives-a-damn commencing...now."

Every monitor in the room flashed a picture-in-picture window showing a simulation of a AS7 Valkyrie Interceptor flying at a kilometer in atmosphere over a prairie field below. The pilot, the only Marsec employee assigned to the project that actually had human decency, tested the aircraft by targeting a few holographic targets.

"Targeting system is green. Looks pretty good. Permission to engage target practice maneuvers?" the test pilot asked.

"Dude do you really need to ask? Get on with it," someone groaned.

"Sorry...force of habit. Engaging."

The simulation was as close to real life as possible for a prairie environment. Of course the real world would always be the real thing but the simulation was able to throw in everything from wind speed to dust particles with a three percent margin of error. It was the perfect means of testing any new technology, domestic or military, and an absolute life savor for Bolts and his team trying to get Bulls-Eye to work.

"Ah hell you bastards forgot to give me guns!" the pilot yelled.

"What?! Who forgot to program the weapons?" Bolts exclaimed in shock.

"My bad! Resetting the simulation now. Janitors and a forty mil coming up," an exhausted software engineer said as she frantically typed in new commands on a computer.

The test commenced shortly after. Bolts was pleased that the system actually worked for once today with a two point one percent increase in accuracy instead of nothing. A far cry from their goal but better than the previous day.

"Would someone from the Bulls-Eye Program please report to management? There's an angry Marsec representative here who is threatening to cut funding...again," the PA system went off.

"Oh for- Someone tell that ass hat to piss off all ready!" the pilot shouted as they continued the simulation.

"I'll deal with him," Bolts said as he got up.

"You sure about that?" one of the technicians asked.

"No but at least I can turn my emotions off," Bolts answered truthfully before leaving.

* * *

Cyberweb had a mixed reputation when it came to dealing with androids. S.E.L.F. was impartial to the company and around half the the managers were at the very least blunt about their own mixed feelings. Unfortunately with this being Mega-Primus there was a myriad of bigots to deal with and it got even worse when those bigots are the reason why androids exist in the first place. Bolts had learned early on that the best way to deal with them was to quite literally act robotic and get on with it.

Fortunately his manager was a decent human being.

"You called that thing in?!" unfortunately the Marsec representative had the personality of a starved chrysalid.

"Can we please keep this civil? I have three other projects that require my attention and this charade has gone on long enough," the manager groaned before putting a psionic headband on to deal with a mounting headache.

"Progress is slow but consistent. We can have it ready by Valentines Day," Bolts said in monotone.

"That's too late! You're stalling," the representative shouted.

"I'm getting too old for this. Both of you shut up right now," the manager groaned as he smacked the headband to get it working.

The room was silent for a few moments following this statement. The manager was sitting behind his desk while the representative glared at Bolts. Bolts simply stared at the representative before sitting down in one of the seats in front of the desk. The representative huffed in frustration but sat down as well. The room still was silent as the three of them stared at each other, but the hostile atmosphere had dissipated to a degree.

"Right... As I've said I have more things that require my attention and for whatever reason this project is being the one that requires me to play babysitter. Now I don't have any idea what is going on down there and frankly I don't give a damn. Tell me, when does Marsec wish to have Bulls-Eye operational?" the manager asked.

"You agreed to deliver before this quarter is up and so far you've-" the representative snapped.

"Shut up! We have until the end of March, correct?"

"Yes," the representative sank into the chair.

"You," the manager turned his attention to Bolts, "What will it take to get Bulls-Eye ready by then?"

"We currently can develop Bulls-Eye within the time frame if we were to devote constant, uninterrupted work. More workers to help with software development and testing, better hardware for processing, and less pressure would result in faster and more efficient development," Bolts answered simply.

Truthfully, they needed more time due to the finicky nature of the software but time was something they would never get. More hands alone would at least speed things up and should they actually get rid of the damn representative then they could make actually progress every hour instead of every week. While that might be an overstatement, Marsec scared the hell out of everyone when they were ten feet away, let alone breathing down your neck. The only reason why no one was afraid of a hired death squad coming to their home was because the representative was nothing more a windbag who would not shut up. Still, Marsec had committed worse atrocities for far simpler reasons than simply being late on a project.

"Write up a list and I'll see what I can do. As for you, I wanted you out of this factory last week. Come by again prior to arranged inspections just to harass my workers and I'll personally inform the top brass on why we are terminating our contract. Got it?" the manager growled at the representative.

"Heh, as if they'll listen to you," the representative scoffed, no doubt thinking ways to flaunt his influence in Marsec.

"Oh I'll do better. I'll personally smash every microchip with a hammer, delete the files from the servers, and resign to go work for Nanotech before they can do anything. Now get the hell out of my office!"

The representative gave one final sneer and stormed out of the office. Bolts watched the scene unfold and cataloged the event in his memory as something to hold over the bastard the next time they caused trouble. As for his manager, the headband seemed to be working. Now came the part were just the two of them talked.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to say something like that," Bolts said once the door closed behind him, emotions turned back on to let relief flow through him.

"Yeah and it's going to bite everyone in the ass one way or another. I like you Bolts but I can't cover you should a higher up decide you are to be sent out on the streets, expert skills or not," the manager sighed tiredly.

Bolts was glad he turned his emotions back off upon hearing this because he would have sighed at that. The same story everywhere, you either had the job because you had the influence or you had the skills. Sadly, skill only was enough to have a job and it was not always enough to keep one.

"I understand," Bolts said.

"Good, now get back to work. Get Bulls-Eye done before that bastard changes his mind. I'll do what I can to help but everything relies on you and your team," the manager ordered.

* * *

Ten minutes later and Bolts was standing in the center of the workroom with the software engineers and test pilot all sighing. They were tired, relieved, stressed, and had a dozen other emotional feelings running through them all at once.

"I know we've been asked a lot lately and that hasn't changed. What has is that we have the full time limit and possible support on the way," Bolts said to the room.

"What good is that going to be? We've been working on this P-O-S for three months now with more difficulties than any other project in this hellhole of a city," one of the engineers groaned.

"Why in the fresh blue hell Marsec is wasting their time on this is beyond me. I've flown in everything from Jager Interceptors to the Hawk. They all ready have the best weapons tech outside of X-COM. Hell, nearly all of their crap comes from declassified X-COM tech to begin with," the pilot said bluntly.

The room devolved into bickering and complaining. No one wanted to continue working on Bulls-Eye and they all knew their heads were on the executioners block if they went on strike...or failed to deliver. Software development was notorious to do properly but Bulls-Eye simply as in a league of its own.

Bolts could feel a "migraine" starting to form even with his emotions turned off. There was too much to process at once. All he could do is try to think up a logical set of actions to get everything back into organized chaos. To start, he was going to need to get everyone focused on working...

Probably the best/worst way to do that was to remind everyone about the fact that management would throw them out onto the street unless they got Bulls-Eye working.

* * *

By the time Bolts came home it was late. Turns out using extortion (even if he was technically not the one to actually use it) really is a double edged sword. Even so, for the past five hours the team has managed to make considerable progress. Most would consider a half percent increase in accuracy a paltry amount of progress but that was more progress in five hours than in the previous five days.

Well...we're finally a quarter of the way there, he thought tiredly as he turned on a television to watch the latest Gravball game.

In many ways, today was actually the best day he has had since the start of the year. The Marsec representative was no longer hovering over him like a chrysalid (Hawk? Vulture? What was the proper term again?) and the team at least was willing to accept the fact that relief was on the way. Extra manpower, better equipment, the actual full time limit, they could breath for once. Too bad everyone hated their job at this point...

Half listening to the game announcers keeping the audience informed on what was happening, he took a spray bottle and hydrated a couple of plants. His apartment was bare for the most part. The plants were the most prominent items in the entire room as they covered the windowsill, counters, and sat on the small coffee table that sat between his rickety brown couch and the television. As an android, he had no need for food or even heat. However, he did find the plants to be a simple, if mundane, reminder that his life was more than programming computer code for a measly paycheck he had no need for outside of rent.

"-Belson is coming in hard to intercept Gibs but can he make the save in time?! Oh! And Gibs scores to tie the game!" the television cried out.

Bolts glanced towards the action before spraying another fern.

"Mm-hmm, at least my personal hell doesn't involve strapping an elerium fueled jetpack to myself to thrown into a wall," Bolts muttered humorously as Belson collided with Gibs on the screen.

Putting the spray bottle back down, he continued watching the game. It was mostly mindless staring for him despite capturing every event perfectly. He would have watched something else, but nothing really caught his attention. Besides, stupid idiots with explosive backpacks flying about like headless chickens was still more entertaining than bitching at a computer system that refused to work...


	5. Farm Life

**2/02/2084**

_X-COM Intelligence Report: K-P5G1_

_Operative: [Redacted]_

_If one were to describe the life of a low income citizen in Mega-Primus in a single word it would probably be "unsatisfying." While we have confirmed reports of a comfortable standard of living when compared to the rest of Earth, that standard is only base necessities and often dull. Unsurprisingly, the low income sections of the city are filled with disgruntled and sometimes violent individuals. Outside of a few Senate controlled super complexes, crime runs abundant to a variety of degrees. The worst comes from the crime organizations (which will be covered in detail) but there is also the presence of radical political entities and a borderline illegal gray market._

_Despite these conditions, most of the citizens are actually people who simply are trying to make ends meet. Any operations within these areas are likely to result in a significant amount of intelligence. It may be prudent to obtain a base of operations within these areas to both increase our influence within the city and to defend it. However, we will be essentially operating quite literally under beneath the floorboards of peoples homes in doing this and may be susceptible of being discovered. Any operations here should be limited to intelligence gathering, a military presence, and minor engineering at the absolute most._

_In the event we are discovered it would be wise to buy their silence rather than make them "disappear." People living in these super complexes are closely knit and would easily get riled up. At the very worst, these bases become open secrets and we scale our operations back. We will need to work with these people tactfully, they know how to dig up the darkest secrets the city has even when they don't realize it themselves._

* * *

Genes tiredly packed her lunch for the day. It was nothing special, just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some tangerines. She would get coffee in the cafeteria, maybe some mocha. She honestly hated Hydro-Farm One and nearly everything about it. The fact that there was a designated cafeteria where food was only allowed reinforced that. She was used to the fact that she would hand over the tin lunchbox to a security officer for "safety precautions" due to some asinine rule.

At least homemade lunches were better than the poison they serve there. She would rather pay her own employers to get quality food than eat that bio-hazardous matter.

"Not like I have much of choice," she muttered as she thought about her predicament for the umpteenth time.

With a sigh, she finished packing and locked the apartment door behind her. She had quite a walk ahead of her if she wanted to get to work on time. While Grimoire Block was in reality one giant super complex, B-14 was nowhere near the People's Tube that everyone used. That happened to be in the more or less abandoned D complex. While complexes A, B, and C were falling apart, people lived in them. D complex was empty save for some Senate sponsored maintenance crews keeping the mostly rotten building standing for the sake of one out of two proper People Tubes in the entirety of the rundown section of the city. Why the Senate insisted on maintaining it was a mystery, but no one complained.

Her first goal was to reach B-20 located on the top floor, north eastern section of the building. What came next was walking across the bridge to the C complex.

"One of these days I swear I'm going to fall off this damn thing," she muttered as she walked across the dilapidated bridge.

Of course she could go across the street but there always was the off chance that someone would come blazing down the road on Blazer Turbo Bike. It was rare but even the aristocrats came into the slums. Whether it was an illegal street race, a rebellious kid, or some asshole flaunting their wealth, there was always the chance someone would come speeding across the street. At least the gangs stayed in their territories and well away from Grimoire Block.

"Kinda nice that we have a Magapol station nearby to keep trouble away... Huh...why doesn't Copper work there?" she thought out loud as she entered C complex.

C complex was honestly more of the same when compared to B. Same ugly walls, same ugly carpet, same dull ugly lighting. A few people were locking their doors and waved to her, a courtesy she returned. It was before sunrise so to see anyone up usually meant they needed to get a head start on getting to work like her. Technicians, secretaries, that one guy who was a sanitation worker for Evonet, they all needed to get up early if they wanted to get to work on time. Considering a cab ride was the equivalent of half a year of wages one way (for an autotaxi, an air taxi would be triple that amount) and cars were expensive, most people took public transportation. It was slower but free which made it a far better alternative.

Continuing on her walk, she eventually came to the second bridge she needed to cross. Somehow, D complex always looked like a haunted mansion despite looking nearly identical to the other complexes. Inside was a different story.

Wouldn't be surprised to find a dead body in here one of these days, Genes thought as she walked through the barely lit up hallway.

If B complex was rundown with peeling wallpaper and half destroyed carpeting, D complex made that seem like paradise. The floor had no carpet and was covered in debris, the walls had holes in them, and the lights flickered as if possessed. No one had the courage to explore the other floors save for the first and the stairwell. Some rumored there were gangsters hiding in there or mutated rats that were spliced with muton genes (long story that actually involved a city wide lock down with Megapol using auto cannons liberally to hunt the things). Most of the comments were in jest but there was always a lingering fear that permeated from the complex.

Genes liked to pride herself as a modern scientist and that she had seen far worse in the ruins of the world, but D complex unnerved the hell out of her. No matter how many times she would walk through, the building felt unwelcoming. Some residents in within Grimoire Block even insisted on bringing personal defense measures with them ranging from pocket knives and pepper spray to Lawpistols.

* * *

Brushing her unease aside, Genes walked calmly through the decrepit building. D complex was just another daily part of life and it was here to stay. The journey was mercifully brief and she soon approached the People Tube. A century ago, the devices would have been considered a staple of the future; a means of every day citizens to get around easily. That belief still held up to a degree...but they reminded Genes more of those old airport moving walkways more than anything else.

Because having a floor that moves interdependently is a brilliant thing. Better yet, have people in anti-gravity encased plastic bubbles and send them flying at twenty five miles an hour like they're ping pong balls, she thought sarcastically as she inputted her destination.

Still, the People Tubes were remarkably safe and reliable despite the practice. Superdynamics may have held the entire market for air based vehicles, but very few organizations knew how to make anti gravity technology work as smoothly as they did. Add in the fact that Transtellar got most of its funding from the Senate and its other services and the usually cutthroat corporation actually made the public services "public."

"We're sorry, but your route to Hydro-Farm One is currently undergoing maintenance. A new route has been calculated and you will arrive at 08:04 AM," an electronic PA system that was installed within her bubble stated.

"Damn it," Genes sighed, knowing full well what awaited her the nanosecond she would arrive at work.

* * *

"You're late you bitch!" her supervisor yelled as she walked into the laboratory.

"People Tube maintenance," she said dryly, not even looking at the overly aggravated supervisor.

"Shut up and get to work! Section nine has a fungal infection which I expect to be cleared within the hour!"

Keep this up and I might sign up for Evonet, Genes rolled her eyes as she walked to her station.

She was currently wearing a hazmat suit that was mandatory for working within Nutrivend laboratories. While it did offer protection from inhaling farm chemicals, it was somewhat over the top. Someone in upper management had to have eaten the wrong kind of mushrooms because they believed that if someone so much as looked at a cabbage the wrong way while it was being cultivated would result in the entire harvest going bad. It was laughable on how stupid the world acted on a daily basis and somehow the most important place in entire Solar System got the worst of it.

Enough bitching, time to earn your pay, she thought to herself, Okay let's see what fungal menace is threatening our...wait...I developed a counter to this last week!

Leave it to her superiors to make a mess out of things. Nine out of ten they ignore her work despite supporting evidence while the other times they simply steal it. Of course, most of the time she was the one to fix the problem which results in her keeping her job despite the consistent threats of being fired.

"Okay, okay, okay... Breath Genes. It's just invasive cordyceps on a bunch of potatoes. You'll be done within five minutes," she said to herself after taking a deep breath to calm her furry.

Work was easy and fast, but tedious. Day in, day out she handled extremely boring assignments that were solved in a matter of minutes. Of course, a farmer prior to the War would have spent weeks or months trying to accomplish what she was doing. However, she did come from Outback Science which for all intents and purposes was the best research facility within the Solar System.

That...and the fact that she had access to genetic manipulation technology. Unfortunately, Nutrivend was more interested in using that technology for asinine purposes.

Who the hell cares about having peas that taste like pork?! Just eat a different vegetable if you don't like them, she thought as she finished her last assignment before clocking out for lunch.

* * *

Nutrivend had extremely strict regulations regarding its products. One of which was "zero contamination" which forced employees to eat in specified cafeterias. These cafeterias were built like laboratories with very similar protocols in place to prevent any "contaminants" from leaving them. Crumbs, fruit juices, coffee stains, even water was prohibited from leaving the room outside of secured transfer systems. Many of the more grounded and cynical employees joked that the company board would make bad breath a contaminant if they could.

For Genes, it was just another day in food hell. Not that it was any different from the past three years working here. Coworkers who were actually human beings quietly discussed what was going on in their own sections or the Grav Ball Game last night. It was pointless but it did help pass the time in the clinically sterile room.

"So...anyone know when they're bringing baseball back?" a farm hand asked.

"Baseball? Dude, that's in the fall," one of the computer technicians muttered.

"More into football myself," Genes said as she sipped her mocha.

"What type? American?" someone on the other end of the room asked.

"I'd watch the Grav Ball games if I was interested in that," Genes said, causing a few people to laugh.

She finished her meal and threw the trash into a disposal unit. Any leftover organic matter was to be recycled before it reached Evonet (why the sewers were distributing food was a question best left unasked and unanswered), another regulation that wasted time. Genes knew her time in the lab was done for the day but she was actually assigned to a project she enjoyed after lunch, observing new domestically raised animals before they were shipped out.

At least animals are simple even when they have more brain cells than management, she thought to herself as she waited for the decontamination chamber that connected the cafeteria to the rest of the facility to finish cycling.

Strangely enough, Nutrivend had access to DNA that X-COM managed to acquire at the end of the War. If the Senate allowed it, reformed aliens could be walking the streets alongside dinosaurs as seen in a few other parts of the globe (dinosaur dung made very good fertilizer which was a lifesaver for cultivating plants). Instead, they focused strictly on critters from the Twenty First century only and nothing else. Genes found it strange why some people wanted to have a pet tiger the size of a house cat but she had a personal favorite so she had little room to comment.

"Okay Stinky, let's see how you're doing today," she said as she walked into an observation room and inputted a few commands.

* * *

In a cage laid a striped skunk who was partially asleep. Said skunk was an anomaly within the Nutrivend animal breeding program since he was genetically designed to be more intelligent and tame but somehow had fully developed spray glands. As to why this was such a surprise is the fact that he was not supposed to have them at all and perhaps the only reason why they remained was the fact he was would not survive the surgery due to his young age.

Not that he knew about these facts or would have cared. No, instead he was more interested in the small buzzer and light that signaled for him to enter a detachable compartment. Yawning, he got up and stretched before walking into the small but roomy compartment. As the compartment door closed and he felt watched the world move while being transported away from his cage, his mind began to wonder who he was going to see today. He only saw a handful of individuals and only one of them he liked. She gave him a name, scratches, and even the chance to meet other animals on occasion. The others poked and prodded him, often in ways that felt uncomfortable.

The ride was quick and brief, too fast for him to actually make sense of the world that was outside the compartment. All he knew was that it was big and had weird shapes. There were even bigger shapes in the distance but they were smudges at best and he was not really interested in them. Instead, he was more interested in the room that he should reach right about-

* * *

"-now," Genes said as the transfer unit reached the observation room and opened up, "Hello Stinky. How are we doing today?"

The skunk squeaked in happiness as he rushed up to her. Little thing damn near stole her heart when she first saw him. Technically, she was supposed to "fix" him but that task was deemed nonessential when there were bigger fish to fry. Such as making sure the greyhounds could have the muscle mass of a german shepard without sacrificing the speed or the hamsters were reaching the size of pet guinea pigs without any adverse effects (or vice versa for whatever reason). Still, she did enjoy petting him on her lap as she monitored the screens and distribute the daily feeding quota for each pen.

"I swear if you were in my place you would be spoiled so much," she said as Stinky fell asleep in her lap.

Her musings were interrupted an hour later. Some nonsense about a board meeting or the fact someone forgot to use the right acidic formula again.

"Sorry Stinky, back to the salt mines for me," she apologized as she picked the skunk up to send him back to his cage.

Stinky, awake enough to realize he was being sent back, squirmed in protest.

"Hey enough of that. I'm going to drop you if you keep squirming," Genes sighed as she tightened her grip.

Stinky stopped protesting and reluctantly walked into the transfer unit once placed. He did try to use a puppy eyes trick which required an extraordinary amount of willpower for Genes to resist.

"Not going to work this time buddy," she said as she looked away and sent the skunk back to his cage.

Before leaving, she made sure to brush off her clothes and input the command to give Stinky his daily food. Hopefully, whatever bullshit Nutrivend was demanding of her this time was going to take an hour and not the entire afternoon.

* * *

Stinky was unhappy. His time with the friendly individual was cut short by the annoying buzz. Sometimes it simply distracted her, often it stole her. She would often ramble about her life, not that he really understood or cared what she was talking about just so long as he got to spend time with her. But alas, he was back in his cage...at least there was food waiting for him.

As the skunk started to eat, two Nutrivend scientists observed him. What they saw was not a creature with its own emotions and life, but a defective product.

"It's too smart for its own good," one of them said.

"That and it can spray people," the second agreed.

"Any other deviations with this genetic template?"

"This is the only one."

"Records show it should have the mental capacity of a seven year old at the end of the year and the intelligence factor will only continue to increase."

"Make it sound like one of those movies from before the War."

"So...what do we do about it?"

"It's friendly with the hybrid in the genetics lab."

"Right, forgot about her."

"How do you forget about the one person who treats it like a puppy?"

The two scientist bickered away, forgetting about the skunk. By the time they came to a decision, Stinky had finished his meal and was fast asleep. On behalf upper management, he was to be transferred to "a better environment that doesn't waste time and resources that could be better allocated for actual products."

* * *

Genes slammed her door closed and walked into her bedroom. Not bothering to take off her shoes or even her bag, she fell face first onto her bed and started to scream into her pillow. The afternoon was a tedious waste of time that saw her running all over Hydro-Farm One doing asinine tasks. Memo deliveries, having to recalculate formulas, arguing with management, taking samples on crop sections that were out of proportion by a millimetre! She hated her job so much!

After her initial screaming, she got up and started to get ready for the evening. Dinner was going to be another case of cobbling up leftovers. With a sigh, she shifted through her overstuffed refrigerator.

"Pasta, meatloaf, soup...when did I make that fish salad again? No, no, nope, nah-ah, no, no, not in the mood, no, maybe, no... You have a Phd from the most prestigious laboratories in the entire System and you can't make up your mind about dinner. Fine, let's finish off that fish salad with the pasta," she muttered before getting out a bowl to heat the food up.

After the microwave beeped and wrapping herself in a blanket, she turned on the television and started looking for the daily news while eating her dinner. The slums of Mega-Primus was thankfully quiet today without the odd stabbing or bombing happening. Some traffic jams due to fried circuits, a kitchen fire getting almost out of control, and the news about Laser Squad on Mars getting out of control was nothing new. With a sigh, she changed the channel and found an old rerun of the 2066 Solar Baseball League. How a team from Europa went up against the reigning champions hailing from the Japanese Archipelago was an interesting case of sports history but Genes could care less about the story. All knew was that she was bored and wanted to watch something interesting.

"Ice Geysers vs. Orcas...one hell of a game to close off the season," she said to herself before someone knocked on the door, "Coming! One second!"

Opening the door she came face to face with her landlord and a Nutrivend delivery drone carrying...a cage?

"Hi, sorry to bother you. Airtrans driver called to let me know you ordered...what was it again?" the landlord asked the drone.

"Specimen KV089A7F," the drone said bluntly.

"Yeah that. Looks like a cat or some kind of dog."

"It's a skunk," Genes said with some confused excitement, not quite understanding what was going on.

"What's a skunk?" the landlord asked.

"I'll make sure he doesn't spray anyone unless they deserve it," she muttered before turning her attention to the drone, "I assume there's a legal document management wants me to sign?"

The drone wordlessly displayed a data pad for her to sign. Taking a quick glance to read it, her eyes widened a bit at the contents.

Monthly deliveries of food food and medication, an increase in salary, and legal ownership over him all for a weekly report on how he's doing? Management must be dumber than ever but I'll take it, she thought before promptly signing the dotted line.

"Additional supply will arrive within the next five minutes. Thank you for shopping at Nutrivend," the drone said in an emotionless tone before giving her the cage and flying off.

"I guess that's that then. Have a good evening," the landlord said before walking away.

Genes nodded before closing the door behind her with her foot and set the cage down on the floor. As she expected, Stinky was partially drugged and just aware enough to know something was going on around him. Opening the cage, she gently pulled him out and set him down on the couch and turned off the television.

"Well, at least I have something to look forward to after work now besides the neighbors," she said as she scratched the skunks ear before the doorbell rang.

With a frustrated sigh, she opened it to find the drone (or was it a different one?) holding a box of supplies. Judging by the size of the box, she knew she was going to have to do some organizing in her apartment... Oh joy...

* * *

Stinky was confused and tired. Where was he? Why was he with the individual who he visited everyday? Was it the next day already? What was that noise? When did his bed get bigger? What were all of these new smells?

The skunk was thoroughly confused and tired. While still questioning everything, he decided the best option was to go back to sleep. He would find answers when he was awake...


End file.
